


A Tale of Broken Stones

by uriellactaea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Multi, NSFW eventually, Romance, Slow Burn, warrior couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uriellactaea/pseuds/uriellactaea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uriell Lizbeth Trevelyan has been sent by her mother to the Conclave at the worst moment. Her family is scattered around Thedas, and her little sister has gone missing after an accident one month ago. After loosing her faith in the Templar order and the Chantry, she will have to deal with something bigger than her and carry the name of Herald of Andraste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Trevelyan Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic, and in english, which is not my mother tongue, so please let me know if there is anhything else I can correct!

It was early in the morning, the sun just starting to break across the sea in the horizon. She pressed her eyes shut and leaned against the window frame. She could feel the cold stone against her arm as she let out a sigh. The stifling heat that night had kept her awake. Well, that and her nightmares. Those came frequently since the accident one month earlier, and became more and more violent.  
She crossed her arms and frowned. She shouldn’t think about the accident. It haunted her dreams far too often to think about it during the day as well. Plus, her scars left her with an ever-present reminder.

The light ocean breeze ruffled her long hair. She shivered at first but welcomed the chill with a relieved smile. She shook her head from side to side, and began massaging her temples. She knew she had a lot of work to do today and she had to be ready.

“Messere Trevelyan, may I enter please?” She looked towards the heavy, wooden door of her bedroom. She could see the small glimpse of light piercing under the bottom; with the way it flickered she was certain it was a candle. She didn’t have to ask to know who it was; the voice was light and soft, ringing with kindness.  
“Yes, please,” she said, surprised at how rough her voice sounded, “Morning, Lalli”. She cleared her throat. Staying alone in her bedroom for three weeks hadn’t help. Lavaliel and her son were the only ones she had spoken with during all that time. Well, at least, when she was eager to talk.

Lavaliel acted like she didn’t hear. She entered the room quietly, a candle in hand, neatly-folded clothes hanging over her other arm. She closed the door without a sound, came by the bed and placed the candle on the bedside table. Still very quiet, as she didn’t want to scare her, she delicately took the clothes, unfolded them and laid them on the messy bed. Then she finally looked at her, compassion in her eyes.

“Did you sleep well Messere?”

“Come on, Lalli, no one’s around.” She let out a sigh and gave Lavaliel a shy smile. The elf was trying to keep her distance, but she couldn’t bear it. Not now when she needed all the friends she still had. “Please, keep using my name, I don’t need those noble titles, you heard Mother.”

Lavaliel took a step closer, entering the timid daylight that was beginning to flood into the room. She was as radiant as usual: her long, dark hair draped over her shoulders in intricate braids, her deep blue eyes glimmering in the light. Her amber skin seemed to shine when it caught the sunlight. Even though she was far older, Lavaliel looked like a child who grew up too quickly. She seemed worried, and hesitated a long time before speaking again.

“Uriell,” she began carefully, before biting her lip. “Did you sleep last night?”  
“Should I lie to you?” Uriell tried to smile, and knew she failed to make it convincing. “No, of course I didn’t sleep. I’m scared, Lalli.”  
“You would be a fool if you weren’t scared.” The wisdom in her voice echoed in the silent room.

Uriell tried not to smirk awkwardly. Oh, a fool, she was for sure.

“Do you think Mother has decided what to do with me?” said Uriell in a strangled voice. Lavaliel looked at her with compassion, and bit her lower lip once again. Uriell shivered. That was a bad sign. She seemed too worried. She surely knew something.

“My La… Uriell” she said, carefully choosing her words. “Lady Trevelyan wants to see you in four hours. She has summoned the whole house, even servants. She has something important to announce.”

 

That was it, thought Uriell. Her mother had come to a decision. What would she do with her? She was useless to the family now, unable to enter either the Chantry or the Templar Order, unable to become a knight as she wanted to, due to her mother’s will… unable to fulfill her duties as a Trevelyan daughter. She froze. What about her father?

 

“All right… Will… will Father be there?” Uriell tried to steady her voice, and failed, once again. Maker, she needed to fix it before the great meeting. A warrior should show no signs of weakness.

Lavaliel softened her look and gave her a shy smile. Her eyes always sparkled when Uriell talked about him, so it wasn’t a sign of good or bad news. “Yes, he will be there,” she finally answered.

 

“Good. Maybe he will influence her decision for the better then.”Uriell took a deep breath, and stretched her arms above her head. There was no other solution anyway. She had to face her fate now, and she wouldn’t run away from it.

“Shall we dress you then, my Lady?” Lavaliel turned to the bed, showing the clothes. The light had brightened and she could better see the shapes of three delicate dresses lying on her bed.

 

“Maker!” Uriell shook her head in disapproval. “May I not wear a dress, please? You know I hate the ones Mother picks for me. She has such a horrid taste.”

Lavaliel stifled a giggle in her hand. She had obviously expected Uriell’s reaction.“You know it will displease her if you don’t, but if you insist–” She walked toward the bed, and pulled away one of the dresses, revealing a white shirt with golden linings and dark brown leather trousers. “I arranged something else, just in case.”

“Lalli, you’re perfect!” said Uriell, moving to the bed to inspect the outfit. “Thanks for the finishes, I haven’t mastered them yet.”

 

“Your craft is pretty good already, I should start teaching you other techniques soon.” Lavaliel’s smile was now broad and warm. She loved to talk about sewing, and especially liked teaching Uriell.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Uriell turned her back to Lavaliel. She removed the ribbon from her hair, letting it flow down her back in long, curly and tangled locks, which softly brushed at her back. She felt Lavaliel shift behind her, and she heard the sound of her taking something off the bed table.  
“How would you like your hair today?” she asked her softly.

 

“Daring,” answered Uriell with determination. “I want Mother to know I don’t fear her choices and will do my duty. Well, at least, I want her to believe that.”

 

“A nice choice,” replied the elf, beginning to untangle her hair with her fingers first. “Your father would like that.”

Yes, he would. He was the one true Trevelyan of her house, and a true warrior. He was the one who’d told her about the Trevelyan hair myth: the longer the hair, the stronger the warrior; the length bore their power. Even if she didn’t believe him, she let her hair grow longer and longer. It seemed like there was no end to it. Her father was very proud of her hair, and would talk about it to any new guest staying at their castle.

“If only Mother was as impressed as he,” she sighed.

***

When Uriell left her bedroom with Lavaliel behind her, the sun had risen well above the horizon, and the white stones of the corridor reflected it like mirrors. She blinked repeatedly and brought her hand to her forehead so as not to become blind. Her pale, blue-green eyes suffered from the light, as did her skin, pearly white with darker shades where the sun marked her. Each time she spent too long under the sunlight, small red blemishes broke out across her skin; they only disappeared months after. It looked like she had freckles, but she knew it wasn’t the case. She would have preferred freckles.

 

However, no matter how she feared the sunlight, she knew how to take advantage of it. Her golden hair, now braided loosely with strips of leather, caught the light and shone, swinging lazily and brushing the back of her thighs with every step she took. Her ivory white shirt seemed to glow, and the gold embellishments sparkled whenever she moved her hand.

 

Lavaliel walked by her side, carrying the dresses her mother had sent. She was a delicate contrast next to her. She was all grace, exquisiteness while Uriell was strength and boldness. Uriell couldn’t help but admire her. Maybe it was because she was the last born of the Trevelyan, the last of the seven children, and the only girl. She was more used to swords and shields rather than dresses and flowers. In order to defend herself, but also to defend her brothers, she’d started imitating the boys at a young age. That way, she got along with them pretty easily, but bit her lip each time they looked down on typically “girlish stuff”. How could they criticize femininity? To her, being a woman was much more of a fight in a daily life. It was a battle that never ended, with codes, and complicated rules; more rules than men had. And Lavaliel was a great warrior, at least as Uriell saw it.

They reached the stairs at the end of the corridor and made their way down. They were heading towards the main hall when someone burst through the kitchen door to their left, laughing. Uriell stopped to avoid the impact, but Lavaliel wasn’t quick enough and bumped into the giggling form.

“Maker! Lalli, is everything alright?!” Uriell went to her knees immediately to check on her. The dresses she carried were all spread in a strange mess on her and the man. Uriell frowned and looked at him sharply. Then she realized who it was.

 

“Oh come on, Kariell, what were you up to today? Please be more careful!” She tried to sound strict but she knew it would have no effect on him.

Kariell took the lacy green dress off his head, and laughed harder. His long, straight, blond hair was all messy and tangled, and Uriell knew it wasn’t because of this little accident. She kept a mischievous grin from forming on her lips; she didn’t know how much Lavaliel knew about her own son. Plus, she already looked annoyed enough.

 

“Here you are, Kariell!” she snapped at him, while he was wiping small tears from his eyes. “I’ve been looking for you all morning, and you weren’t in your bedroom! Where have you been, young man?”

Kariell was still smiling, leaning on his elbows while Lavaliel got up to her feet, supported by Uriell’s strong arm. The Trevelyan lady gave Kariell a knowing look and then gathered the dresses, trying to fold them. Lavaliel stood, her hands on her narrow hips, trying to look more impressive. Finally, Kariell got up too, and with a sigh, started playing with his mother’s patience.  
“Come on, Mommy, I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty now, do I still have to tell you when I go for a sleepover?”  
He gave Uriell a subtle wink and she rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. He would have to tell her everything after Lavaliel’s sermon. 

Outraged, the elf’s lips parted as she was about to scold him, but he interrupted her anyway. “So Ur, how do you find the air outside of your bedroom? It’s nice, isn’t it?” Even if he was trying to mock her, Uriell could see concern in his eyes, and she was grateful to him.

 

“It’s fresh, but it’ll get hotter in a few hours,” she answered, trying not to notice the disapproving look on Lavaliel’s face. “What about going for a swim this afternoon? At the wild creek?”

Kariell put his fingers in his blond hair and tried to comb it the other way. He seemed pleased by the idea, but dared not answer. “We’ll see after today’s grand meeting,” he said softly. “It’ll depend on… you know…”

 

Oh, right. Uriell let her gaze drop to the floor. She still didn’t know if she would be there by the afternoon. She shook her head. No, no more negative thoughts. She said she was ready for this, and she would follow through.

 

“Yes, indeed,” she said, while she straightened herself. “Let’s go to the Grand Hall. I wouldn’t want to keep Mother waiting.”

 

“No one would,” he added, biting his lips.

Yes, he knew that Lady Maria Trevelyan hated waiting. He had been punished more than once, and being Lavaliel’s son, she was harsher with him than with anybody else. Her lady mother was no fool, after all. With his rounded ears, his blond long hair and green eyes, anyone would have guessed who his father was, even if Lavaliel never said a thing. But Maria Trevelyan was subtle enough not to talk about it. She just really enjoyed torturing Lavaliel and her offspring each time they slipped up, even in the most minor ways. And there were many things Maria Trevelyan did not like. This drove Uriell mad with anger and she often got in the way to try and reason her mother. Another behavior her mother frowned upon.

 

Without a word, Uriell left Kariell and his mother and started toward the Grand Hall. The sooner the announcement concluded, the better. She heard Lavaliel gasping and running to get beside her. She said nothing. She was tense, too. Uriell hoped her mother wouldn’t send her away, because it meant no one would be left to protect Lavaliel. She knew Kariell, he knew how to behave in front of Lady Trevelyan, but Lavaliel was so clumsy when nervous and her mother so ill-tempered. She held the elf responsible for everything that went wrong.

Uriell had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she barely noticed her arrival at the doors of the Great Hall. She sighed, and focused her gaze in determination. She laid a hand on each door, and pushed them open.

 

The light flooding the room created an eerie atmosphere. The white stones shone in contrast to the tapestries on the walls. Golden embellishment danced around the columns on each side of the room, and two white engraved thrones at the end of the expanse drank from the pure light. Her parents sat upon the thrones, waiting for her. Her mother, delicate, as always, stared at her with no emotion in her eyes. Her father, however, sat awkwardly, legs wide spread, his elbows resting on his knees, hands joined. He seemed to already be bored by all of this.  
The hall was already crowded. On her right side, Templars stood straight, hands on their pommels, proud and strong. On her left, the Chantry sisters calmly awaited her arrival, hands crossed on their laps, and their gazes following her at once when she entered to room. As Uriell walked down the alley, she could feel Lavaliel had left; far too shy to remain at her side, she moved to stay with the other servants behind the Chantry sisters.

 

Uriell felt naked, alone, but she never looked down and stuck out her chest. When she arrived at the feet of the dais near the thrones, Uriell bent her knee and gave her parents a deep and respectful bow. The room fell quieter than before, if that was even possible. Then she rose to her feet and straightened again with military precision. They could hear approbations coming from the Templars side, and she felt sick of it. She still wasn’t over the last month’s events.

Her mother lifted a hand, and everyone focused on her. She was beautiful, with her Orlesian features, admired and feared by everyone in Ostwick. People would hold their breath when she began to speak. If only cruelty wasn’t one of her features, Uriell would have been like all the others, in awe at every word she spoke.

 

“Now that everyone has gathered, let this grand meeting begin,” she said, her melodious voice carrying through the hall. It sent a cold sweat down Uriell’s back. “Uriell Lizbeth Trevelyan, you are here today for great purposes.”  
Uriell gave her mother a neutral look. She could sense everyone staring at her. What kind of “great purposes” could her mother be talking about? Well, at least, she seemed not to want to waste any time. Uriell felt her heart pounding hard in her chest. Maker, please, make this quick. She hated being the center of attention, unlike her mother. A quick look to her mother’s side, and she saw her father shifting uncomfortably. This wouldn’t be good.

“The House Trevelyan,” continued her mother, making large gestures with her hand toward the audience, making her long sleeves flow in the air like wings, “has received the honor of being invited to the Divine Conclave in the Frostback Mountains.”

 

Wait, what was she talking about? Uriell shifted slightly, feeling nervous, while excited whispers filled the room.

 

“We all know,” said Lady Maria Trevelyan, calming the agitation in the room with a simple smile, “that the situation between Mages and Templars is now unacceptable. We need to make an agreement and discuss the needs of all sides in this matter. We need to bring peace to Thedas.”

 

Well, that was ambitious, thought Uriell. And a bit hypocritical from her mother; everyone knew she hated mages. That was the reason why she always had a few Templars inside the castle, and all Uriell’s older brothers had become Templars. Except Aron, the sixth son. The Grey Wardens had enlisted him eight months ago.

“In order to honour this invitation,” Maria Trevelyan said, while turning her sharp gaze down on her daughter, “we shall send you, Uriell Lizbeth Trevelyan, to the Conclave as the representative of our House.”

 

Uriell let out a small gasp, unheard because of the agitation in the room. She looked up at her mother with wide eyes. She would send her away as a representative? This must be some kind of a joke, mustn’t it?

 

“We’ll deal with your crimes when you come back,” her mother added in an inaudible whisper, but Uriell read it on her lips. Templars were cheering, Chantry sisters were talking with excitement, but Uriell heard nothing. She felt deaf, taken aback, and lost, while drowning in her mother’s cold and harsh stare. Her father stared at his feet, trying to avoid Uriell’s eyes.

“Obviously, anyone willing to go and join her party will be welcome,” said Lady Trevelyan louder, calming the crowd. “Let us consider this a holy pilgrimage to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

 

Everyone’s gaze fell down upon her back once again. Uriell went still. They were expecting an answer from her. She brought her right fist to her heart and began to say with a steady voice, “Messere Trevelyan, it would be an honor to serve the House and be your representative at the Conclave. May our words be heard and the rebellion cease.”  
Her mother gave her a cruel smile. What had she done? She could hear vivid conversations behind her, Templars asking each other if they wanted to join the party or not, Chantry sisters talking about Andraste and her remains. No one noticed the look on the face of lady Maria Trevelyan.  
Then a realization struck Uriell and she added firmly, “I have a request, Messere.”

 

“What is it, my child?” she said suspiciously.

 

“I would like Lavaliel to come with me to the Frostback Mountains.”


	2. Family Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Uriell Trevelyan leaves for the Temple of Sacred Ashes with Lavaliel, Kariell suspects the journey won't go well and warn her. During her long travel, Uriell starts having visions and sees members of her family amongst the mages and templars heading to the Temple.

The setting sun neared the horizon when Uriell had finished packing and went to the stables to tend to her horse.

“Oh-hoo,” said Uriell, brushing the horse’s mane slowly. “Easy Diavolo.”

The horse stopped whining at her voice; his amber eyes glowed fiercely. She wasn’t too fond of Diavolo, but she was the only one who could mount the bad-tempered animal.

“Come on,” she whispered. “I know you’ll like the journey. I’ll even let you gallop.”   
Diavolo shook his head in approval, but seemed like he didn’t want to leave the stable.

“You stubborn donkey.” Uriell bit her lip. She wouldn’t let him win, she thought. “Okay, fine, go on and pout, your Highness. But I’ll be back for you in five.”

Uriell let the brush fall down on the hay-covered ground and went out to the yard. Templars gathered their belongings, few of them already straddling their horses, ready to venture. Uriell sighed. The departure was imminent.

The sunset casted long shadows in the courtyard, white walls glowing orange with its reflection. Excitement filled the courtyard; everyon spoke so loudly, she couldn’t hear a thing. A group of Chantry sisters all prayed together, giving benedictions to the Templars who requested for it.  
Uriell gave a quick glance around her, looking for Lavaliel. She said she had to look and pack for some of her warmest clothes as preparation for the journey. Earlier that day she had asked for permission regarding her company, with much to her mother’s dismay. Lavaliel was only so thankful that her friend had stood by her abrupt decision after the whole ordeal, Uriell could only utter a relieved thanks from Lavaliel.

“Ur!” a voice called.

Uriell turned around when she heard her name. Behind her, in the stables near Diavolo, Kariell waved at her. He stood in the shadows, seemingly nervous. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen, so Uriell made sure not to act suspiciously when she came back near Diavolo’s stall.

“So, Kariell,” she said in a whisper, “what’s the matter? You’re so pale, it looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Trust me, Ur, I would have preferred a ghost,” he replied hastly. His face was grave and he looked around them, nervously making sure no one was in an ear shot.

“Please, tell me, what happened?” she demanded with solemn worry, afraid of the mad light in his eyes. He used to be so calm and cocky, but his usual smile had vanished.

“Lady Trevelyan…” he looked behind him before continuing, “... Lady Trevelyan, she… she acted really strange today. Well not only today, but... she was smiling when no one was about, a mischievous grin, I tell you. I think something might happen during your journey.”  
His eyes grew wide and pale, his hands shaking. Uriell never had seen him like that before, she knew her mother could be fearsome, but not by that much surely.

“Okay, calm down, Kal’” she said firmly. “You know me; I won’t let anything happen.”

“At first, I thought it was my imagination,” he said, keeping his voice low. “She began acting strange since the fire, last month. She laughs alone, mutters alone, smiles alone. And today, after this announcement, she is literally ecstatic. I mean, the others seem quite happy too, but… it’s strange, you know?”  
He steadied himself and looked Uriell directly in the eye. “You have to promise me,” he said, “that you’ll do nothing reckless, and take care of my mother.”

“Of course, I will,” replied Uriell with a serious face. “I won’t let your mother down; you have my word. I would have taken you with me but…”

“No,” he said sharply. “I’m strong enough, she won’t break me. And there must be someone here to wait for Elliel.”

He almost choked at the mention of his sister’s name. Uriell stood silent, her lips pursed. They almost never talked about it since the fire accident. Elliel had gone missing, she disappeared the day after. Uriell was unconscious at that time. When she woke up it was Kariell that told her about Elliel. At that time, Lavaliel couldn’t even say her name, it broke her. No sign of struggle, no note, nothing, Elliel had vanished. Did she leave, afraid of Lady Trevelyan and her bad treatment? Did Maria Trevelyan play a part in her disappearance? Nothing was certain, but Kariell, Lavaliel and Uriell awaited her return, hopelessly, without a word.

“Kariell…” she tried to say something, but Uriell couldn’t find the words.

“Ur, I know what I’m doing.” Kariell turned his face away. “If she… if she’s not back, and if you’re not back in three months, I’ll leave and look for you.”

Uriell remained quiet as she looked at Kariell with gloom in his eyes. Why would she be that late? The Conclave wouldn’t last forever. Worried for Kariell, she could only let out a sigh: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“I can not promise anything like that, sis’, you know I can’t behave properly,” said Kariell with a weird smile. He always called her “sis’” when they were alone, it was a silent agreement between them. Without asking, they always knew. They were too much alike, too blonde, too ‘Trevelyan’, not to be bound by blood. It was their secret, something that always made them smile. But this time, it was different. He said it with such a sadness in his voice, it pained Uriell.

“Still, Kariell, please-…”

“Uriell, my child?”

Startled with the sudden sound of a voice she knew all too well, sheturned around quickly, and saw her father standing in the frame of the stable door. Leaning on his arm, he was carrying a long package covered in a dusty fabric. Uriell looked back at where Kariell was standing, but he had already disappeared, in the shadow of some empty stall for sure. Uriell slowly faced her father. Diavolo let out a snort, impatient and exasperated.

“Yes, Father? May I help you?” Uriell smiled at him, but could feel anger lurking in her chest. He didn’t say a word during the whole meeting today, he left her to face her own mother’s twisted show alone, and it still pained her.

The last lights of the day made his long straight yellow hair shine like gold, highlighting the metallic details of his outfit. He could look handsome if anxiety hadn’t bore such profound wrinkles on his forehead and temples. The light blue of his eyes, once bright and vivid, turned bland years ago, speckled with hints of gray. Ever since he returned from Denerim with Lavaliel, pregnant, and some other servants, her lady mother made every effort to torment his existence. His once vivid appearance then slowly but surely began to fade. Uriell felt sorry for her father during a short moment, but kept her mind strong.

“My child, please,” he said timidly, “I wish I could be the one to help you…”

“Yeah, about that,” replied Uriell softly, “you have been awfully quiet as of late.” She remained calm and steady, but felt almost ashamed as her tone sounded too curt.

“No I-... I couldn’t.” Her father looked down, avoiding her eyes. “Maker knows I tried to talk to her before the meeting, but everything was decided and…”

“How could it be final if you did not approve of it?” Uriell came closer to her father and put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re stronger than her, I know you are!”

Teyrn Titus Trevelyan let out a shy laugh, a small smile marking his face, “My child, your mother’s strength is abstract, she knows how to manipulate her opponent’s minds, to use their own weakness against them. It’s a dangerous weapon, one that does not rust, but gets stronger with each use.” He stressed strongly. “Unfortunately, mine isn’t as sharp as my sword.” His face went blank and he avoided Uriell’s eyes once again.

“You’re hiding something…” said Uriell quietly.

“Well, speaking of swords,” Titus Trevelyan shoved his package in Uriell’s arms, without ceremony. “I thought you might need this.”

The package was quite heavy, but felt quite thin under the fabric. Surprised, Uriell slowly peeled away the dusty cloth and unraveled a sword. It was long and elegant, chiseled with the familiar mark of the armory of the Trevelyan House. It was almost as thin as a rapier, but the pommel was broader, and the blade heftier. She looked up at her father, in awe, but she couldn’t say a word. The present was too beautiful; what could it mean?

“I give you Rose,” he said warmly. “It’s the name of this sword, it belonged to your aunt Lucille. She said it was time for you to have it. It was designed for the Trevelyan Dance of Swords and you are my only child who has mastered it entirely.”

Uriell smiled at him. The Dance of Swords was the name of the fencing techniques her father taught her. She never saw any Trevelyan use those techniques in real battles, only during social events when her family wanted to leave a strong impression.

“Thank you, Father, I’ll take good care of it.”

“Take care of yourself too, my child,” he added. “The road is dangerous.”

***

They left during the evening. Uriell thought her party would be bigger, but most of the enthusiastic members gave up when they realized the journey would last at least ten days, with two sailing days. Plus, they only had access to one boat, and would also need to sail with their horses. They were a group of twenty people: Uriell, Lavaliel, a representative from the Circle named Ives, three Chantry sisters amongst them the most important of Ostwick, and finally Ostwick Knight-Commander Colston and his Templars. Uriell didn’t feel at ease, but despite it all she led them with the same fervor expected from a Trevelyan noble.

They left Ostwick’s port at night and arrived two days later in Highever. Afterwards they took the Imperial Highway on horseback, which did not please the Sisters forced to ride with some of the Templar contingent. Lavaliel rode with Uriell, her hands tightly clasped around her waist. It was the lmost strenuous part of their journey. Day by day, the weather became colder and colder as they headed South. At first Uriell felt kind of glad, as she didn’t really commune for much heat, but the warm layers she thankfully brought with her were unabashedly put to use. After two days of riding, the sky let out it’s first layer of snow. It surprised Uriell seeing the white marvel pour out surrounding her with cold fluff. She never travelled so far South and she had never seen snow before. To say that she was just a little bit delighted was an understatement.

The closer they came to their destination, the more they encountered groups of mages and Templars along the way. They were obviously tense, looking at each other, each waiting for the other group to eventually ignite a brawl. Uriell always made sure the Templars who accompanied her behaved properly. Faithful to the Order, they stood still each time they came across a group of rebel mages, but they never laid a finger on them. Uriell discussed it with Knight-Commander Colston should the situation arise, the day of their departure and he agreeded on the matter. They would deal with the mages later according to the Divine judgement; however, if a rebel mage ever attacked them, they would fight back. The old habits were indeed hard to break however, and even Ser Colston kept his hand tight on his pommel whenever a mage was around almost instictively.

One week later, the small group blended with others from all around Thedas, Templars and mages altogether, walking and riding silently side by side, due to the lack of space on the road. They finally went off road, taking tortuous paths through the mountains, climbing toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The cold, hunger, and soreness of the journey were even more wearisome, and people were on edge. Even the usually calm Uriell became more and more impatient with each moment passing as they neat their destination. Her thighs and back ached because of the riding, and she couldn’t find restful sleep at night. She stayed awake for long hours in the tent that she shared with Lavaliel, listening to every sound, in case they might be attacked.

It was supposed to be their last day riding before arriving at the Temple. They were on time; the Conclave was scheduled to begin the day after. They left their camping spot at dawn with a bit of anticipation but Uriell didn’t feel well that morning. She hadn’t slept the night before and her nerves were on edge. Lavaliel gave her a medicinal drink so she wouldn’t feel the pain and exhaustion, but her eyes still ached.

Following a group of Templars right before them, Uriell looked around he surrondings lazily. Ives, who was at her side, seemed pretty tired too. He had worked all night long preparing potions for the party under the vigilant eyes of the Templars. She felt sorry for the man, surrounded by warriors and Templars, their inquisitive gaze draining him all day long. Uriell gazed behind Ives, staring absentmindedly at a group of mages walking, struggling in the snow. She caught a flash of bright red from under one of the capes and she steadied herself abruptly. No, it couldn’t be!

Her sudden movement woke up Lavaliel who had fallen asleep against her back. “Uh, what’s happening my Lady?” she asked, yawning.

“Lalli,” answered Uriell in a short breath, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she twisted on her saddle to look at the mages group they just outpaced. “I think I saw Elliel.”

“Elli… What?” Lavaliel stiffened and looked at the direction Uriell was directing her attention to.

“There, amongst the mages… I think I saw her…” said Uriell, less and less convinced by what she thought she had seen. The group was a few meters behind now, so close to disappearing.

“My lady,” said Lavaliel carefully, “I think the exhaustion is giving you visions. It’s impossible. Elliel can’t be here.”

“Yeah, I know Lalli. I must have dreamed it,” she said resignedly.

Lavaliel slowly fell asleep again, her dainty arms still holding onto her waist, but Uriell was now wide awake and restless.   
Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for anyone who might look like Elliel. She stared at every redheads she saw, looking for elven ears and deep blue eyes. She knew it was useless, but a small light of hope burned inside her chest. By midday, she resigned to the notion that her actions were futile, she found no one notable of the half-elf features of Elliel she desired.

The party stopped to eat in silence in between some trees, away from the snowy path. That was when a fight finally broke out. About a hundred meters from them, a young mage was building up a campfire with his magic. He recklessly taunted a Templar staring at him, and the aggressive Templar couldn’t keep cool any longer. The Templar went straight for the mage, unsheathing his sword with spite. It was no tough decision which sides the people who have gathered there chose, the mages helped the mage, and the Templars helped their kind. The fight immediately got out of hand.

When she realized what was unveiling, Uriell stood up in a survival reflex. Quickly, barking orders at her party in the middle of the agitation, Uriell ordered everyone to get back on the saddle and flee the place as soon as possible. There were too many of them fighting then, and she couldn’t think of anything right now to make them stop. She had to avoid any casualties, even if it was just of her own.

Soon enough they all got seated and fled toward the main path, but Lavaliel had trouble with Diavolo. The fierce stallion seemed to ignore her and his hot blood was excited by the sound of the battle and the confusion ringing among the trees. Uriell felt her blood freeze in her veins. Lavaliel was fully exposed, and was wearing no armour unlike her and her party. Uriell went running toward her friend as a lost fireball flew above her, and hit Lavaliel directly in her back.

“LALLI!” Uriell shouted her friend’s name before sprinting to her side. She was panicking and screaming, not knowing what to do.  
“On the ground, NOW!” yield Uriell when she was near her. Lavaliel obeyed, still screaming while the fire was eating the layers of clothes on her back. She was lying on her belly and Uriell took huge handfuls of snow and threw it onto her back. The fire went out quickly, and Uriell carefully turned Lavaliel so her wounds would be in contact with the cold ground. She was sobbing and crying. Uriell instinctively reached a hand to her waist, and found nothing; she had no potions with her. She had to find Ives as soon as possible. She looked up and saw the chaos around her, she had to be quick.

“Diavolo, STILL!” At her voice, the animal stopped his whining and dropped his head. Uriell went to her feet immediately, then lifted Lavaliel and took her in her arms. The gracious elf was light, and Uriell had no problem getting on the saddle with a swing. She settled Lavaliel between her arms and caught the reins. In a few seconds they were away from the chaos, following the snowy path and galloping toward her left party.

***

“The burns are pretty serious,” Ives told Uriell. 

They had established a camp in a clearing on a hill. Uriell had gone straight to the mage’s tent and asked him to tend to Lavaliel’s wounds. He was applying ointment on Lavaliel’s back when the elf fainted. Uriell waited outside while Ives struggled with his efforts to bandage Lavaliel’s back and chest. Uriell was mad at herself; she should have shielded her friend and taken the damages instead. Lavaliel was so delicate, it could have killed her. Anxious, Uriell stood, arms crossed and biting her nails while watching warily groups of mages pass by, on their way to the Temple.

Ives finally got out of the tent, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “She’ll be fine,” he said, answering to Uriell’s worried look. “But she needs to rest. We have to stay here with her, we can’t go any closer to the Temple. No horseback riding for at least three days I’d say. Maker, I’m not a healer, I did everything I could.” He let out a sigh and sat down at the entrance of his tent, exhausted. The weight in Uriell’s chest felt lighter, but bitter thoughts still lingered. At least, Lavaliel was out of danger.

As she saw Ser Colston passing by, she called out for him: “Knight-Commander! How far are we from the Conclave?”

Ser Colston stopped and gave a look around him. The clearing was on a culminating point and they could see the camping spots of hundreds and hundreds of Templars and mages not that far away down the hill. A bit further from there, the stones of the Temple could be seen.  
“I’d say we are one hour, by foot, as the path goes downward,” he finally said.

“Good,” Uriell was pleased by his calculations. “It means we can camp here and go to the council tomorrow then. Knight-Commander, please leave a few of your Templars here to protect Ives and Lavaliel while we are at the Temple.”

“Yes, my Lady,” replied Ser Colston with a nod before leaving to relay his orders.

Uriell remained in the mage’s tent the whole afternoon, reading a book she brought with her, sitting in full armor next to Lavaliel. She changed the wet cloth on her forehead once or twice, watching over her. Lavaliel slept the whole day. It was dark when Ives finally came back inside his tent. As Lavaliel couldn’t move, Uriell had given him the permission to sleep in her tent after he checked on the elf’s condition. When Uriell finally finished the last chapter of her book, she stared at Lavaliel for a while. She was still in deep slumber, seemed to be knitted permanently, reminding Uriel of the pain she had to endure, or maybe a sign of a nightmare. Uriell felt as if her guts were made of solid iron, rocking inside her belly. She felt guilt over what had transpired, the overwhelming concern made her face look more serious than usual.

After a while, she finally decided to go out for a walk in order to get some fresh air. She took off the wool blanket she covered her legs with, and laid it over Lavaliel to keep her warm. She exited the tent silently, and stretched her whole body with a grunt of pleasure. Her armor was heavy and her back still ached from the week’s ride. The chilly air outside was welcome, and the sky, dark and full of stars, was a delightful view. Some of her men weren’t asleep yet and talked vividly around the campfire. No one gave her attention, and she quickly strode to Diavolo behind the camp.

The stallion was restless, whining and shaking, while the others were calm and silent. “Easy Diavolo,” she said. The horse looked at her with glowing eyes. 

Uriell felt uncomfortable, something was wrong with the way her horse was acting. It sent a shiver down her back, causing her to stop. The horse kept staring at her, then he turned his head to his right. Uriell followed his gaze, and became breathless. There, between the two tents on the opposite side of the camp, stood Elliel. Her tangled hair, wild and red like fire, blazed in the breeze; she wore a worn cape around her shoulders and her face was smudged with dirt. She looked like a madwoman, blood and mud on her robes, her eyes glowing with the embers of the campfire. Uriell felt like she had been punched in her belly, and rubbed her eyes. When she opened them wide, Elliel had disappeared. Where Lavaliel’s daughter had been standing, there was nothing more now than empty space.

Growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute, Uriell quickly paced to her tent, and grabbed her sword and shield from the ground. She shot a quick glance behind her shoulder, no one was watching her. She had to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, seeing her half-sister here was so disturbing that she couldn’t stay at the camp any longer without doing something; so she left, heading to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

It took her a while, but she eventually managed to make her way down the hill without being noticed. After a quick glance around her, she noticed the Templars installed their camp near the location. The flaming sword of the Order shone on their armor wherever she looked. Uriell quickly felt uncomfortable, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She hesitated for a few seconds, then made up her mind. She wouldn’t leave without trying; so she ventured through their camp.

She described Elliel countless of times, asking every Templar she found that would stopped and pay attention to her, but each time the answer was the same. No one had ever seen such a woman around the camp or during their journey.

Of course, what did she expect? She asked herself, getting gloomier by the second. Uriell managed to drag her feet a bit further away from the camp, and leaned back on a tree. She stood there, lost in thought. Was she so exhausted as to inspire visions? Well, this would be considered insanity, her mother should never know about that. Uriell sighed. She made a fool of herself, believing her missing half-sister would have been there of all places. She decided it was time to go and take some proper rest.

She glanced at the nearby campfire before leaving, when she saw a silhouette walking quickly among the tents. She stopped and kept her eyes on the Templar. The way he was walking seemed familiar, longer strides on the right leg than the left. Then the Templar turned his face toward the fire and she saw him.  
Uriell caught her breath when she recognized the man. He was Linden, her elder brother, the first one who followed the path of the Templars. Well, at least, he looked like him. Linden used to be charming, his blond hair always perfectly done, always smiling and smooth with everyone. But that man…

Uriell hadn’t noticed she had come closer to where he was standing, still behind the tents away from the people passing by. Was it really Linden? The man looked like he hadn’t slept in years. His eyes were two stones lost between wrinkles and there were two dark circles right beneath them. His hair was patchy, as if he had pulled out handful of it from his head. He looked like a sick man. She stared at him until he finally noticed her. When his gaze met hers, she felt bashed by her behaviour; but the way he reacted was even more confusing. His eyebrows bumped together in a scowl, then the muscles on his face tightened. He turned on his heels and stormed out, without looking back.

Uriell didn’t move, too surprised to do anything. What was that about? Could it really be her big brother Linden? If so, why was he so… angry to see her? Instinctively, she finally darted out and went after him. Running amongst Templars was not easy, but the man was walking hurriedly and had left with a serious head start. She followed to the best of her ability, apologizing every time she bumped into someone, trying not to lose track of her target.

After a few minutes, adrenaline inhibiting all her senses, she saw him enter some kind of ruins. It abandoned her that she was already away from the Templar camp, the sound of conversations and agitation far behind. She entered the ruins too and ran through something that looked like what was once a long corridor. A few torches were still lightening the dark stones on its battered walls.  
At the end of the corridor, the man took a right turn. Uriell ran a bit faster, her armor slowing her down. When she finally turned right, she had lost sight of him, and could only see another ominous empty corridor.

“Maker!” she tried to catch her breath and stood there alone. She bent over, hands on her knees, and waited for her heart to calm down. She had just followed a stranger into a place she didn’t know. It was so unlike her. Why did she do that?

She stood like that for a while, wondering if she could somehow make her way back to camp. All of a sudden, she heard something strange. Screams, she thought. Her eyes went wide. It was coming from the end of the corridor. She put her hand on her pommel, and moved slowly toward the barrage of horrid noise.

“Why are you doing this? You, of all people!”

Uriell froze, holding her breath and listening warily. She heard a voice, a woman. Oh, this sounds bad. The grip on her pommel tightened when she continued walking toward the end of the corridor. She noticed there were doors now, on her left, on her right, and right in front of her. The atmosphere was tense and Uriell got goosebumps. Magic, she thought. Something isn’t right here.

“Someone, HELP ME!”

The voice, again. It came from the door in front of her. Filled with determination and ready for a fight, Uriell ran toward the door, opened it briskly and she burst in. She shouted “WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

And everything around her suddenly disappeared in a green blinding light.


	3. A loyal friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavaliel wakes up after the explosion. The Templars and Uriell are missing. Deciding she can't leave Uriell behind, she tries to find clues about her disappearance near the temple, but is brought to a shelter camp for refugees by a Seeker of the Truth named Cassandra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! This chapter is very dense and long, I'll make shorter ones after that.  
> The canon story seen by Lavaliel's eyes, as she learnt Uriell disappeared and they caught the suspect of the Conclave Explosion.

  
  


_   Dark. Cold. Green light. _

_   Pain. Fear. Confusion. _

_   Rattling sounds. Presence. Is someone here? _

_   Danger. Running away. Dark. Cold. _

_   Being chased. Slipping down. Getting up. _

_   Green light. Silhouette. Whose hand is that? _

_   Dark. Cold. The ground. _

_   Exhaustion.  _

 

***

 

“Lavaliel? Lavaliel, please wake up!”

 

The dark-haired elf’s eyes snapped open. Someone shook her shoulders and her half-healed wounds stung of pain. Her senses were almost back to her when she heard screaming. Long, hysteric screams. 

 

“Good, you’re awake, we have to leave now!”

 

Lavaliel turned her gaze to the speaker. It was Ives, pale as a ghost, lips trembling.  _ Something is wrong. _

 

“Ives, what… what’s happening?” she asked. The mage, already on his feet, began to pack his medical equipment frantically in haste beside her. He grabbed potions and herbs, shoving them inside his bag. His eyes darted in all direction as sweat covered his face. Lavaliel struggled to sit, feeling sore all over. She felt like all her nerves were aflamed and each move of her tingled with bolts of pain. Having a hard time to breathe, she instinctively brought her hand to her ribcage. She noticed she wasn’t wearing her blouse anymore, and her fingers felt the rough touch of linen bandages, soaked with sweat, blood and cataplasmes. It came back to her in shots and spurts. The battle, the fire in the forest.

“Is this another fight between the mages and Templars?” She needed answers. 

Ives gave her a brief desperate look before he turned back to packing: “It’s… more complicated than that…” The tension in his voice made her chest tight.

The loud noises outside the tents and the perpetual shouts terrified Lavaliel. She had to get out of here. She grabbed her robes that were folded on the floor beside her, then she started to dress. She struggled to get on her feet as the pain in her back still burnt. At least, she could move. Ives came to help her as she was too weak to pull her arm through the sleeves. 

“The Temple,” he explained, “there was an explosion. The whole area was destoyed. We are lucky we settled camp away from there. The forest nearby is on fire, the Templars and mages are fighting, they are all convinced the other side is responsible. We have to leave before we get caught up in their blind murder.”

Lavaliel adjusted her belt without a word.  _ An explosion at the Conclave? Was this a work of a rebel? _

“Quickly, we have to leave now.”

Ives grabbed Lavaliel’s hand, crushing her fingers inside his palm, and pulled her outside. Lavaliel bit her lip not to cry because of the striking pain he caused to her arm. 

Despite the time it was still early morning, a swirling darkness swallowed the landscape. The sky was filled with dark smoke, glowing red from the fire.  The horses were restless; a horde of people were screaming and running away down the mountains. Lavaliel gave a quick glance at the camp and felt anguish growing inside of her belly.

“Ives, where are the others? Where is Lady Trevelyan?  And Ser Colston? Where are our Templars?”

“We don’t have time, Lavaliel!” Ives tried to tame the horses and picked two of them, avoiding Diavolo. His hands shook.

“No Ives. Tell me now.” Lavaliel took Ives by the arm. She gathered all her strength to keep him still. Why would he leave without Uriell?

“Lavaliel, they’re all dead,” he gasped. “Uriell disappeared earlier that night, and Ser Colston came down the hill with his men to look for her… An hour after, the explosion.”

__

_ No, this couldn’t be _ . Lavaliel stood silent in the middle of the camp, still holding Ives by the sleeve. People ran through the camp, and she could hear the clamor of a fight nearby. The situation was completely out of hand, but she couldn’t give up Uriell. 

“I’ll go look for her.” Lavaliel stared at Ives. Yes, she would. Uriell could not be dead. 

“Well, I won’t.” Ives shook his arm out of Lavaliel’s grip. “I’m sorry.”

Ives got up on the saddle of one of the horses and fled without a word. Lavaliel realized she was alone now. And defenseless. She could hear the fight getting closer to their camp. Adrenaline made her forget the pain in her back as she ran through the camp straight to one of the Templars’ tents. Inside, she found a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

“That will do.” She strapped the quiver to her back. A small chest nearby revealed leather pauldrons and gloves. “Better than nothing”. Once ready, she burst out of the tent, bow in hand. She left the camp like a shadow and ran the opposite way of the panic, directly to the temple ruins.

 

Lavaliel sprinted swiftly down the hill. Her past training as a rogue came back to her quickly. It reminded her the time she lived in Denerim’s alienage, young and careless, working as a spy and a hireling. She preferred collecting secrets rather than killing, but one paid less than the other. She hoped she wouldn’t need to kill anyone today. The closer she got to the location of the temple, the fewer people she passed on her way. She passed groups of badly wounded people, praying together for their mercy. Thankfully, the battles seemed to be far behind her and she didn’t encounter any aggressive Templars or mages.

 

Some trees still burned and the apocalyptic atmosphere gave her icy chills. Scraps of wood and stone were scattered on the ground. When Lavaliel approached what seemed to be a camp, she could have sworn she noticed mutilated bodies lying on the ground. The sight of it sickened her and she went another way, still heading for the center of the blast. She tried to shut her fear down, even still the bitter voice of anxiety whispered to her.  _ It could be Uriell’s arm or foot... _ She felt anguish growing in her heart but stayed focused on her destination. She would find Uriell alive, no matter what; she was sure those remains weren’t hers. 

 

After a few minutes, which felt like years, she finally reached the ruins of the Temple. The whole area glimmered with an eerie green light and fulminating vibrant red crystals shone with an hypnotising glow. She gave a quick glance around her. Singing, soft and low, intensified the feeling, but she saw no sign of anyone. A flicker drew her attention and she looked up at the sky. A little gasp parted her lips when she saw what looked like a hole in the sky behind the clouds of smoke. A storm of green lightning burst from the void above her. Bolts of energy struck across the sky, from time to time. It was so distant from her, but she know they would strike the ground.  _ What could it possibly be? _

 

“Watch out!”

 

A strong voice echoed behind her, startling her. She turned around immediately and froze in place. A tall creature stood close to her, ready to attack. It wore a hood and ragged clothes, but it was the flesh that scared her the most-- decayed grey skin, clogged with blood. A masterpiece of horror, the creature’ crooked and warped face tilted in her direction, its hands long and thin with elongated claws instead of fingers. It was too close to her; she couldn’t shoot it. Fright held her in place.

A blade burst through the hooded monster. It let out a shriek of agony before disintegrating in a green burst before Lavaliel’s eyes. Still shocked, she didn’t notice the warrior straightaway. 

 

“It’s dangerous here. Why are you sneaking around?”

 

Lavaliel looked up at the woman standing where the monster had been a few seconds before. Her hair was dark and short, her face tan and marked with deep scars. Lavaliel felt naked under her interrogative eyes. Not so far from them, a party of soldiers waited for her.

“Answer my question!” the warrior barked. 

“I... “ Lavaliel was totally lost and needed answers. _ What was the hole in the sky? What was this horrible creature? Where did Uriell go?  _ The warrior gave her an inquisitive look.  _ No, _ Lavaliel had to answer her first. She didn’t seem patient; plus she killed the monster so easily she could break her in one swing of her sword.  “I’m looking for my Lady. Have you seen her?”

“Who are you looking for? Don’t you see the place is devastated?!” The warrior let out an exasperated sigh. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous. Demons are crawling all around the rift.”

“De … Demons?!” Lavaliel’s eyes went wide at the notion. She shot a glance towards her then asked, “The creature you killed--it was a demon? Why? What are the demons doing here?”

“I’m the one asking questions here!” said the dark-haired woman. She went closer to Lavaliel and pointed her blade at her. “You’re lucky we found someone else in the Temple, or you would be my first suspect.”

Lavaliel stiffened when the bare blade rose up to her chin. She felt her courage vanish and her legs started trembling. Tears broke at the corner of her eyes. She had lost everything, starting with her daughter Elliel a few weeks ago, her dearest friend Uriell might have been killed that night, and she was now a “suspect”? All recent events came back to her with a vivid pain. She remembered when she learnt her daughter had disappeared, how she held back her tears for days while Uriell stayed locked in her room, also in shocked. She remembered the long journey through the Frostback Moutains, all the soreness she accumulated those last days; but Uriell was still there, even when she got burnt during the fight in the woods. The disappearance of her Lady left her with a hollow heart; she tried to stay confident and hoped to see Uriell again… And the scattered limbs she glimpsed on her way flashed before her eyes once more. She let out a sob before falling to her knees. The warrior stared down at her when Lavaliel began to speak:

“I’m looking for my Lady, Uriell Trevelyan. She disappeared last night, I… I swear I’m only looking for her. Please, I was asleep when all happened. I need to find her, please,”she said, pausing in an anxious sporadic nature.

 

The warrior waited a few seconds before sheathing her sword. Lavaliel gave her a desperate look. A glimpse of compassion flashed in warrior’s eyes. 

“Come with us. You’ll be safe at the camp,” she finally said as she offered her a hand to help her to her feet.

It took them a little less than an hour to get to the camp. It was part of a small village, unscathed by the explosion. Refugees and soldiers crowded the place, and some makeshift tents were pitched about the area. As soon as they arrived, the dark-haired woman, named Cassandra, left the party. Lavaliel felt so out of place but didn’t dare to speak to anyone. There were mostly humans around her, and she knew being a city elf wouldn’t help a rapport of connection with any of them. 

She wandered alone in the camp, lost in her thoughts. She didn’t find Uriell and she wasn’t sure she would be able to go back to the temple again, even if she managed to leave to camp. Surely, she would encounter another patrol that would bring her back here. They seemed to be looking for a culprit, and she didn’t want to look suspicious. 

 

“Did you hear that? They caught someone!”

Lavaliel turned her head toward a group of individuals talking at the entrance of a tent. They didn’t notice her when she came closer to hear their conversation, hiding behind another tent.  _ Whoever did this, whoever might be responsible for Uriell’s disappearance, she would find them and kill them. _

“I heard that. High Chancellor Roderick seemed really nervous when the patrol returned,” said a young woman in rags.

“They say,” continued an excited squire next to her, “that they found a woman in the Temple. She came out of nowhere and fell unconscious on the floor. They saw another woman next to her, but she vanished!”

“Nonsense!” blurted out an old man, the third member of the group. “No one can appear and disappear like that. Must be another damn mage again!”

“She must be really powerful. Blowing up the whole temple, like that,” added the young woman, terror in her eyes. 

“Someone said she came out of the Fade. She’s a mage, I’m sure of it! I’m sure the mages are behind all this,” spat out the old man.

“Actually, she isn’t!” replied the excited squire. “You know Flint? He’s one of the guards in charge of her cell. She’s currently being taken care of by some apostate who came up to the camp earlier. He said she’s not a mage, but her hand is glowing.”

“If her hand is glowing, how could she not be a mage?!” asked the old man with an exasperated tone.

“He said it must be due to the explosion, but she couldn’t make it herself. She has no magical power within her,” explained the young boy, who seemed very proud of knowing something that the others didn’t. 

“Did Flint tell you what she looks like?” asked the young woman, looking for some gossip.

“He didn’t say much. Just that he said she was human, and wearing strange clothes, in the Marcher’s style.”

 

Lavaliel suddenly froze and stopped eavesdropping, letting out a sigh. There were plenty of Marchers going to the Conclave, she had so little information she couldn’t expect anything.  _ Was this even worth fighting for? _ Lavaliel stared at her feet as she wondered what would happen next. The noises and excitement of the camp were more reassuring than being left alone in the mountain without a map and information about what happened.  _ That was it, she would stay here, gather as much information as possible, try to find Uriell and then, maybe, come back to her only family left, Kariell.  _

 

She took another stroll within the camp, studying it more closely. People gathered in small groups, and tried to stay organized, under the direction of some guards. She glimpsed a soldier who stood near and she came shyly by him: “Excuse me, ser?” 

The man turned to face her, startled: “Yes, how may I help you?”. He stared at her intensely.  _ He’s looking for a vallaslin _ , she instantly knew.

“I just arrived, all alone, and I would like to know how things work,” she told him. “What could I do to help? Can we borrow a tent, or something?”

The soldier chuckled. “ _ Borrow a tent? _ I’m afraid I can’t help you, we brought up here as many people as possible, but we never expected… well, those things to happen. There aren’t enough tents for everyone.” He looked absentmindedly to the other side of the camp, and he continued: “There’s a group of city elves over there,” he showed her a group of people with his finger. “You should go there and see if you can join them.”

 

Lavaliel thanked the soldier with a nod and went to the direction he indicated her, it was her only solution now. She approached the group slowly. They were five; two mature female elves were trying to light a fire, a little child was sitting on the snowy ground, holding tightly a blanket to warm her, and two males were setting tents up. As Lavaliel stood near, one of the females noticed her and pulled on the sleeves of the elder male of the group. He looked at her, and asked her warily: “How may I help you?”.

Lavaliel gulped, uncomfortable with the situation, and said with emotion: “I just arrived there, alone. I’ve lost my family to the explosion. I can cook, I can hunt, and I can set up a camp. May I stay with you for a while, please?”

The two males exchanged a look. Then the elder one nodded: “You can stay, you’ll help.” He sighed with a saddened smile. “We really need to protect each other now.”

As she helped lit up the firecamp, she learnt more about the group. They came from Redcliffe, fleeing away from the battle between mages and Templars. They heard about the Conclave and came to look for peaceful nobles who would agree to hire them as servants and start a new life. They were more than fifteen when they left. Most of them died during their journey, caught in the middle of mages and Templars fights.  _ These times were dark, but they were darker for little people, _ thought Lavaliel.

They did not talk much. Lavaliel helped setting the tents and cooking. As she was the only one who wore a weapon, she was assigned the security of the group. They did not talk much, but they worked out as a group to assure the safety of everyone and Lavaliel was thankful for that. 

She took the first guard shift that night, and stared for two long hours at the firecamp. All day long, she had heard people around badmouthing the survivor of the explosion. That woman was their perfect culprit. Each passing hour, her portrait got worse. She was now said to be an old witch, an abomination. Some people even whispered that she was bloodthirsty and that’s why they were kept locked in the village’s improvised hold. One thing was certain: everyone at the camp wanted her dead. 

 

The day after, she looked for some information. She learnt more about the soldiers, the organization of the camp, how they all were following the orders of Cassandra. She was a Seeker of Truth, an Andrastian order answering directly to the Divine’s orders. The warrior was famous for being the Right Hand of the Divine, and she was the one who first stood up to lead the disoriented people who survived the explosion, helped by a mysterious redheaded woman called Leliana.

She heard thousands of people died because of the blast, amongst them were the Divine Justinia and the leaders of the mages and the Templars. Each side blamed the other. People mourned the Divine, and Lavaliel sympathized with them. She wasn’t really attached to the Chantry principles, but she lived with the Trevelyan’s for more than twenty years, and most of them were very devoted Andrastians. The Divine was loved and admired by everyone in Ostwick. Lavaliel knew the situation could only get worse now. 

 

The second day, she talked with guards about the situation outside the camp in order to know if she could leave not too far and try to hunt. She learnt scout found more and more lost refugees in the area, and they had to settle other camps to welcome everyone. As for going outside the camp, no one would stop her from doing so, but the surroundings were still dangerous.

People named the hole in the sky the Breach. It appeared the veil between the Fade and Thedas became torn because of the blast, creating rifts all around the world. She heard from scouts and messengers the Breach was the largest one. It was a door, which allowed demons to cross the veil and harass the living. She once eavesdropped Cassandra saying the rifts spilled out demons in a never ending flow since the explosion and there seemed to be no way to close them.

 

After three days at the camp, Lavaliel’s restlessness piqued. Every day, she hoped a friendly face would show up at the camp-- Ser Colston, any of the Templars she left Ostwick with, or the Chantry Sisters. But nothing happened, no one appeared. She didn’t learn anything about Uriell either. Hopeless, she considered going back to Ostwick, but fear of Lady Maria Trevelyan kept her from doing so. Plus, she would have to go down the mountain alone, and the forests were said to be crawling with demons. 

It was around midday when a thrill shook up the whole camp; the prisoner finally woke up.Those who sought revenge were impatient. The curious ones waited in front of the make-shift prison, hoping to see what the horrible terrorist looked like. 

Lavaliel felt sick, as if her heart was twice its size and pounding with all its force against her ribcage. She hid in the shadows, keeping her eyes fixed to the door of the stone building, the one Cassandra and a redheaded woman entered seconds before. Anxiety grew inside Lavaliel with each passing minute before the door opened again. The hooded redhead came out first, heading toward the bridge outside the camp. Even if excitement was palpable, no one dared to ask her news about the suspect. The woman, named Leliana, had such an impressive aura, it kept most people at bay.

A few moments later, Cassandra appeared. People eyed silently the one who followed her. Lavaliel went breathless when she caught sight of blond hair.

“Uriell,” she muttered to herself, “what mess did you get yourself into this time?”

Her lady seemed exhausted, she protected her hollowed eyes with her bound hands when she entered the daylight. Lavaliel saw her lady freeze a moment as she stared at the sky. Petrified, Uriell did not move until Cassandra came closer to speak to her. Lavaliel looked for a way to shorten the distance between them, but Uriell let out a sudden cry of pain as a burst of green magic stemmed from her left hand. She curled up on the ground, keeping her arm close to her.  _ What was that? _ Lavaliel began to panic, the sweet relief of knowing her lady alive quickly replaced with questions and doubts. So the glowing hand was real, but how did Uriell get that?

Uriell rose to her feet thanks to the help of the dark-haired warrior, then followed Cassandra across the camp. Lavaliel did not move as Uriell passed in front of her. People around them were cursing the blond lady, muttering threats between their teeth. Uriell’s face darkened with each step, but Cassandra kept her safe from the soldiers and refugees’ hatred. They took the same path as Leliana had before them, and finally disappeared. As soon as they left, people began talking loudly, with a thrill of excitement, surprise, and animosity. No one expected the evil to be this young, and to look that normal. 

After a few moments of hesitation, Lavaliel chose to follow the two warriors outside of the camp. She followed them, hiding behind the few snowy trees she found on her way. Lavaliel avoided the bridge that was under surveillance and crossed the frozen river. She clutched her bow and took an arrow from her quiver. This time, she would be careful. She would go directly to the forward camp, following the river; she had heard from guards that was where the clerics stayed and awaited for the culprit when she would wake up.

Quick as a cat and as silent as possible, Lavaliel followed down the river’s edge. She encountered a few demons on her way, but her preparation paid off. Each time she drew near the monstrous creatures, Lavaliel hid and attacked them from stealth. A few well-placed arrows, and they went down. They were different from the first one she met-- weaker, light and green, like spectral images floating above the ground. However, they did shriek when the arrows tore them to pieces. Lavaliel kept her hurried pace to the forward camp. She stopped once in her tracks when she thought she heard an explosion nearby but saw no sign of it. 

 

After a long run, she finally reached the bridge leading to the camp. Huge doors guarded each side of the bridge. She approached the great doors from her side, and spotted a few demons wandering nearby. Instead of fighting them, she avoided them with all the caution of a rogue and went straight to the doors.

Lavaliel knocked on the wooden door, cleared her throat and fainted fear as she shouted “Please! Help me!” A guard slightly opened the door and looked at her. “What do you want?”

“Please,” she pleaded, “I lost myself, I left the camp for hunting, my family was starving,” she lied easily. “There’re so many demons, please let me in!”

“All right, all right,” he answered with a sigh. He pushed the doors a little further so she could pass the gates. “But you’ll have to leave to the other camps with the next patrol.”

Lavaliel thanked him a few times, and went away from him.

 

  After a quick glance around the camp, she noticed Uriell and Cassandra were not yet there; however, Leliana stood with a mature man who wore Chantry robes. Lavaliel decided to wait for Uriell near the gates, and she stood in the shadows far from Leliana and her sharp eyes.

From her spot, she overheard some soldiers whispering amongst themselves. “They say there was a woman behind her when she came out of the fade.”

“People think it might be Andraste herself who brought her back.”

“This is nonsense. You heard the High Chancellor, Ser Roderick doesn’t believe this.”

“Then, why is he so nervous?”

“The death of the Divine doesn’t make you nervous enough? Anyway, the Chantry will decide of her guilt later, Ser Roderick will lead her to trial.”

Lavaliel bit her lip. She didn’t need to ask who they were talking about, clearly they meant Uriell. She was so glad to see her friend alive, but the situation couldn’t have been worse.  _ What would happen to her friend now?  _

 

Lavaliel’s ears twitched as she heard a faint sound coming from the other side of the gates. She straightened as she understood it was the clamor of a fight. The demons before the bridge must have found preys to attack. She heard the voice of a woman, and the guards answered :

“Right away, Seeker Cassandra!” 

Lavaliel looked up at the doors as they finally opened, and a group of four entered the camp. She hesitated a few moments; hadn’t Uriell left with only Cassandra? The new members of their party were very different; the first one, judging by his height and musculature was a dwarf, while the other one, taller and thinner, had long and pointy ears clearly noticeable due to his hairless head. 

 

Uriell passed Lavaliel without seeing her, heading straight towards Leliana and following Cassandra closely. Lavaliel noticed in one glimpse her friend’s hands were untied, and she carried a small wooden shield on her back and a long sword strapped to her hip. While she had appeared so weak when they let her out of her cell, she looked now fierce and proud, her serious face giving away her years of dedicated training. Lavaliel smiled at the idea.  _ At least, Uriell was still the same _ .

 

“Ah, here they come.” As Uriell and Cassandra were approaching, Leliana and her interlocutor straightened. “You made it,” said Leliana to the party. “Chancellor Roderick, this is--”

 

“I  _ know  _ who she is,” answered the man in an upset voice.

Lavaliel could barely hear from where she hid, but Uriell’s presence clearly irritated the chancellor. Longing to know more, Lavaliel finally came out of the shadows and closed a bit of the distance between them, pretending to go for a better view of the Breach. 

 

Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh. The clergyman must have told her something she didn’t appreciate. “ _ Order me _ ?” Cassandra’s voice boomed and seemed to echo and cut off the stone work of the bridge. “You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

Lavaliel gave a quick look at the man in the Chantry robes. Full of himself, he took Cassandra’s word as an outrage. His red and sweaty face swelled as he spat, “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

Lavaliel rolled her eyes. Leliana tried to calm down the  chancellor. “We serve the most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” 

“Justinia is  _ dead _ !” he barked at her. “We must elect a replacement, and obey  _ her _ orders on the matter.”

“Isn’t closing the Breach the most urging issue?”

 

At the sound of her friend’s voice, Lavaliel couldn’t help but check on Uriell once again. Her brows were furrowed deep in her frown.

“ _ You _ brought this on us in the first place!” The chancellor didn’t want to hear her question. “Call the retreat, Seeker,” he added as Cassandra came toward him. “Our position here is hopeless”.

Lavaliel looked up at the sky once again. The rift above her swirled with an eerie eternal torment of green lights and smoke. It seemed, an apocalyptical sight promising worse days to come. Lavaliel stopped listening to Leliana, Cassandra, and Chancellor Roderick’s debate on whether or not they should leave or confront the rift.    

A sudden burst of green lightning came out of the rift. At the same time, Uriell’s hand started to glow green. The warrior took her left arm with her normal hand, trying to steady it, until the gleam fade out. 

 

Cassandra went to her and asked, “How do  _ you _ think we should proceed?”

 

Lavaliel held her breath.  _ If they start relying on Uriell, maybe there is hope. _ Uriell, after a moment of thought,finally said, “I say we charge. I won’t survive long enough for your trial. Whatever happens, happens now.” 

And those words sealed the tenor of the conversation. Leliana was ordered to lead everyone left in the valley to safer camps; Uriell, Cassandra, the dwarf, and the elf went back to their journey, toward the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the Breach. 

 

Somehow, Lavaliel managed to slip out of Leliana’s sight and followed the smaller party from a distance. They met a few soldiers along the way, some of them joining Uriell and her allies, and no one noticed her. They were all too focused on their urgent mission to pay attention to the skulking elf. 

They soon entered ruins, where a battle raged. Soldiers were fighting with all their might against demons. Some of the soldiers were already badly wounded. At their sight, Uriell raced further into the destroyed complex. Lavaliel lost sight of her, so she had to approach the ruins. She kept herself hidden behind the wrecked walls. Uriell dashed into the fray, slaying each demon that approached, while protecting her new allies engaged in the battle around her.

An awful creature tried to attack the blond warrior from behind and Lavaliel instinctively took an arrow from her quiver, but the dwarf proved quicker. He shot three arrows into the creature in quick succession, and Lavaliel stared at him. She had once heard of crossbows but she had never seen one until that moment. The weapon’s speed and accuracy impressed her, and observed its master technique with fascination. 

The battle ended quickly. Uriell and the soldiers walked away from the ruins entrance, and Lavaliel had to leave her hideout to follow them again. She finally noticed the giant green crystal floating in the middle of the disintegrated building. A strange magic seemed to protect it. Bolts of green lightning crashed upon the ground below the crystal, and Lavaliel grew uneasy with each step she took in its direction. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t stop Uriell, who ran to the crystal, and stopped right beneath it. With a powerful and determined movement, she lifted out her left hand toward the eerie magical concentration. A strike of green sparkles burst out of her palm and a link of light formed between the young warrior and its center. 

Lavaliel gazed at the scene in disbelief.  _ Was that the new power of Uriell’s glowing hand?  _ Uriell struggled to keep the link stable, and with a grunt of effort, she closed her fingers into a fist and broke the connection. At that exact moment, the crystal exploded loudly, falling shattered onto the ground. After checking that the area was secured, the soldiers approached Uriell. From where she was standing, Lavaliel couldn’t hear the party’s exchange of words; however she noticed one tall man talking to Cassandra. Judging by his sever look and the quality of his armor, he surely must have been a high-ranking warrior. Finally, the group broke off, and the soldier went back in the direction of the entrance, while Uriell left in the direction of the temple. 

Making sure no one saw her, Lavaliel stood in the shadows, waiting for all the fighters to leave before following her friend. Unfortunately, more recruits entered the ruins shortly after that, mostly archers, led by Leliana. Caught by surprise, Lavaliel froze in her place and held her breath. She remained silent until all movement around her ceased. 

Once sure she was alone, Lavaliel took the way toward the Breach. She could hear screams and clamoring below her, and she took the first stairs down she found. She reached a balcony and  discovered where the shrieks came from, to her horror. A few meters below, beneath another green pulsating crystal, Uriell and her companions fought a gigantic demon with all their strength. Their most powerful blows almost didn’t scratch the demon. Standing in the middle of the crater, he burst out in laughs from time to time, swinging an oversized thorn whip at them, knocking some soldiers out.

“What are you doing? Shoot!”

Lavaliel startled at the voice shouting at her. She turned her head to her right and saw a few archers shooting arrows at the demon without resting. Their faces twisted in concentration, sweating because of the effort and the palpable tension. In a quick glance, she noticed there were archers all around the scene. As they appeared to think she was one of them, she came closer to the fighters and strung her bow.

Lavaliel let out a breath and focused on her target. Her past training in archery slowly came back to her: Her senses faded, her breath slowed down, her muscles tensed. Her sight gained in precision and she could detect every single move of the monster. The muffled sound of the archers by her sides indicated whenever they released their arrows, but she didn’t mind following their pace. She focused. 

_ Not yet. _

The demon was facing other way, and judging by its skin, it looked too hard for an arrow to break through. 

_ Not yet.  _

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Uriell’s shield as she came closer to the creature, trying to draw its attention. The demon turned slowly to face her.

_ Not yet. _

The monster had seven eyes, it would be easier than expected. Lavaliel deafened herself to her surroundings. She could hear her heartbeats, her breath, but the fight’s ruckus didn’t reach her anymore. The demon lifted its arm, holding its whip, ready to give another blow. His action made him rotate a little and Lavaliel saw an opening.

_ Now.  _

Her arrow stuck directly into one of its eyes and the demon cried out. She drew another arrow, but the creature was holding its face with his empty hand. She waited. Bolts of green light stroked the crystal beneath the scene, and the demon roared before getting back to the battle. 

Lavaliel shot another arrow, putting out another eye. Another one, but she missed it. She cursed herself for her lost arrow, ready to nock an arrow once again when the demon finally fell to the ground. 

She glimpsed Uriell running at the core of the ruins, where the crystal floated upon. She left arm above her head, shaking while a link of light connect the crystal with her palm. Lavaliel felt her companions around her stiffen. Everyone’s eyes locked on the blond warrior. 

 

With one strong and decisive move, Uriell broke the link once again and the crystal detonated with a powerful blast. 

She did it. The woman who survived the temple’s explosion sealed one of the rifts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big THANKS to all my beta readers! @Ruined-I-Tell-You, @Gloriatheliteralsun, @CometEclipse and @Guileandgall who all helped me re-read it over and over.


	4. Until we meet again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uriell wakes up in Haven and carries for the first time the title of "Herald of Andraste". The Inquisition is founded, but thanksfully, Uriell will not be alone in this adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all my lovely beta-reader who helped me through, and I'm sorry for the lack of updates! Cometeclipse, Gloriatheliteralsu, GuileandGall, RuinedITellYou, Sephiratales and Sewluscious :)

Uriell blinked a few times. She could not see anything. Wherever she was, it was pitch dark and hot. Uriell tried to move, but she had lost control over her body. That was an eerie sensation, yet she didn’t feel alarmed. Sounds clattered around her, growing louder and louder. She could hear the neigh of a horse, the rattling of hoofs on a stony ground. Faintly, light returned faintly. She sat, leaning against a window. The muffled noises echoed from the other side of the glass.

First she saw a glimpse of red hair, and at that moment she realised she was looking at Elliel. Uriell smiled at the sight. She seemed so young. Was it a memory? Elliel seemed no older than ten. A faint laugh tinkled past the glass, and Uriell saw a twelve-year-old Kariell running to his young sister. They cheerfully played together, tickling each other. They were happy and smiling. Elliel spotted Uriell from the distance and waved. She was so endearing with those big blue eyes that sparkled with innocence and that long wavy red hair which danced around her elven ears that blushed when she laughed.

 

A strong flash blinded Uriell. When she came back to her senses, Elliel and Kariell were still there. It took a few seconds before noticing the table covered with pans and food, and the sound of a crackling fire in the hearth. It was Ostwick Castle’s kitchen. Kariell and Elliel were standing there, facing her, clearly older in that memory.

Elliel chewed her lips as Kariell frowned at Uriell. They both looked anxious and angry. Uriell suddenly remembered. That scene, the place, the expression of their faces; she knew what was about to happen. Unable to move, Uriell was forced to watch and relive the memory unfolding before her.

 

“It’s Eric de la Roque,” finally said Elliel, staring at Uriell intently.

 

“What happened?” Uriell’s lips moved by themselves, speaking the words she wished she had not asked. _No, not him_ , she thought. She wanted to forget this entirely.

 

“He assaulted Lenni today,” replied Elliel with a concern look. “He was accompanied by two guards. He found her in the garden--”

 

“And he didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” finished Kariell. His face, usually open and warm, was now dark, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I warned you,” he continued, “please cancel the wedding before it’s too late. Lenni is not his first victim.”

 

Uriell wanted to scream and hide from this memory, but she couldn’t escape. Instead, she turned her head to Elliel who broke the silence:

“That’s the reason why Assiah and Elina didn’t show up today,” said Elliel with a steel voice. “He assaulted them yesterday evening. I don’t think he’ll stop until he leaves.”

 

“I understand,” said Uriell in a slow voice. “I see what happened, but-- I can’t cancel this wedding. I wish I could but-”

 

“When will you wake up, Ur’?” asked Kariell with a hiss. “He’s not the man you think he is. _He has been chosen by your mother_. Please, just think of what it could mean.”

 

Uriell knew what he meant. From the day she met him, she knew something was not right. Her mother, who hadn’t cared about Uriell for years, had never bothered to look for someone to match her daughter with. When Uriell told her mother that she would not join the chantry and would rather become a knight instead, her mother suddenly found someone suitable to her position.

Eric de la Roque was promptly received at Ostwick’s Castle and spent the week to get acquainted with Uriell. At first, he seemed nice and polite to Uriell, but she hated his smile and felt uncomfortable by his side. She was told he once followed the Templars’ training, but left the order as his older brother died in an accident, and he became the official heir of his house. She learnt about their betrothal only two nights before that evening in the kitchen.

 

Another flash of light. She tried to protect her eyes, but she couldn’t move. Maker, the air was so hot that her teeth hurt and felt warm against her tongue. She realized she was lying on the ground. Her head swirled dizzily and felt heavy; pain stung her every muscle. It took some time before she could finally discern her surroundings. She laid in some kind of barn, and the walls were burning.

 

_A fire._

 

Uriell remembered the night clearly.

 

 _No, not this fire_ , she begged without a word as she took in the scene.

 

Uriell’s guts clenched as she tried to move. In vain. _She had to get out of there_ . She turned her head and saw a dark form near her. She recognized the silhouette. Horror grew inside her when she noticed his twisted face and smelt the stink of burnt flesh. Eric de la Roque was dead, lying over a haystack, set aflame. Two other Templars burnt not so far from them. _I need to get out of here_ , thought Uriell, but she was still petrified. The fire roared around her, eating the walls, crackling and spitting sparks from time to time. How long would it take before she caught fire? Uriell tried to roll and sit, but white shot of pain radiating from her core stopped her in a crying agony.

Then, she saw the blood. Her tunic was pulled over her belly; deep wounds extended from her stomach to her sides. Her pulse weakened as she panted and realized she couldn’t get up with such cuts. _Maker, it hurt. Her head hurt, her limbs hurt, her belly hurt so much_. The more Uriell gained consciousness, the more she could feel the stings of pain, her exposed flesh tearing a bit apart with each breaths she tried to take. Tears of suffering and panic ran down her cheeks as she couldn’t help but watch the blood still slowly spilling out from her belly.

She should not have fought without an armor. She would have never won that way. All that she had earned was a fire, deadly wounds, and the certainty of dying there as she couldn’t get away. Such deep cuts… She only had a few minutes to live if the flow of blood kept spilling out.

She turned her eyes away from her belly and let out a loud sob as she stared at the burning ceiling. Cracks of burnt wood falling apart slowly around her reminded her of the nights she spent near the fireplace, mesmerized by the sounds of the logs consuming in the licking flames. She might now be one of those logs. Fear and burning pain teared her up from inside and Uriell let out a muffled cry. With her sight blurred, she was on the edge, wishing her agony would end, praying she would pass away, to forget the blood, the ill ache of her gut, the smell of burnt flesh.

 

The sound of footsteps alerted Uriell to a dark hooded figure approach. _What was it? Was it Death?_ Terror bit her again, and her muscles contracted in a defensive way, only to leave her with a burning feeling of her cuts stretching across her flesh.

Her heart raced when the silhouette closed the distance between them. Uriell had always wondered what Death would looked like. She was terrified, but how could it be more painful than it already was?

Two hands appeared from below the cape and delicately laid on her abdomen. Below her lashes, Uriell saw a green and pure light glowing from the stranger’s hands. Warmth radiated through her whole body and she closed her eyes, waiting for her last breath. But it did not happen.

Slowly, the stranger washed the pain away. At first, Uriell’s pulse gradually rose and her breath steadied. Uriell gawked at her savior in disbelief. The wounds were closing. She could feel the shreds of flesh stretching and fusing together, she saw the skin forming slowly over the cuts, the burning in her guts slowly disappeared and got replaced by a dull soreness of exhaustion. Her head felt dizzy, her tension dropped and the world seemed to spin around her.

 

“Who are you?” she managed to ask huskily.

 

Deep blue eyes pierced the shadows cast by the cloak before everything went dark again.

 

***

 

Uriell gasped awake, jolting upright her mind raced. _The fire. Where was the fire?_ Little by little, she examined the room’s features. She was lying on a soft and warm bed, her hands gripping a thick blanket, which was a bit disheveled. Uriell, still dazed from her drowsiness, collapsed back against the bed. Staring at the ceiling, her lips parted and she inhaled deeply.  Her hands explored her midsection, barely pressing over her stomach; the pain was gone. Closing her eyes, she let go of the breath she took, exhaling softly. _She was safe. It was a dream, another nightmare._

The room with wood walls draped with fennec furs felt cozy. She could hear the crackle of the fireplace that staved off the cold, which frosted the panes of the window to the right of the bed. Rolling onto her side, Uriell would call this place quaint, with it’s small table with chairs and a brimming fruit basket. Even the bookcase near the door captured that same feeling.

Clamor came from outside, making her wondered how such a noise had not woken her up earlier. She heard the sound of the door opening and she stayed silent, staring at her visitor.

 

“Oh!”

 

A box crashed on the floor as a young auburn haired elf gasped with surprise. Her face contorted in a mix of fear and awe upon seeing Uriell awake. It seemed she did not know what to do.

Her eyes darted to Uriell, then the window, the door and Uriell again. Pushing up onto her elbows, Uriell sat up on the bed, just as startled as the young elf. _Why did she look so nervous? Wasn’t she supposed to be there? Was she here to poison her in her sleep?_ Uriell frowned and quickly looked around but she couldn’t see any weapons near her. She stayed vigilant and watched the elf carefully.

 

“Oh, my lady, I-- I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” finally stammered the visitor.

 

Uriell evaluated her intruder quickly. A simple plain wool jacket covered a small skinny frame in basic leather top and breeches. By her clothes alone,Uriell assumed her to be a servant rather than a deft killer. Her small stature and slim build did not suggest she could be much of a fighter. If she would initiate a fight, Uriell was sure to subdue her. Uriell gave a sigh of relief as she smiled at the elf: “Don’t worry about it. I only--”

Uriell stared in disbelief as her visitor feel to her knees and bowed in front of her, putting her forehead to the ground, extending her hands toward Uriell’s bed. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Uriell’s eyes grew wider with astonishment. _Forgiveness and blessing? Why would she ask for such a thing?_ Uriell bit her lip with embarrassment. Before she had passed out, she was still considered as a prisoner, the murderer of Divine Justinia. _What could have possibly changed during her sleep?_

 

Uriell slowly sat on the edge of the bed, keeping an eye on the kneeling elf on the floor. She had risen her head a little as she told Uriell: “You are back in Haven, my Lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

At the mention of it, Uriell brought her left hand closer and watched the glowing green mark on her palm. It hurt faintly, and bursts of green light came out from it from time to time. At least it wasn’t as painful as it was when she closed the rifts earlier. The supple voice of the elf drew her attention once more: “It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

Uriell’s eyes widened. Three days? _Maker, I slept for three days. I must have been in a pretty bad shape_. Her nightmares usually prevented her from sleeping more than three or four hours.

 

“Then, the danger is over,” whispered Uriell, to both the elf and herself. According to the young servant said she had succeeded in closing some rifts. There was hope. And if people were talking only about it for three days, it also meant there had been no other attacks ever since.

 

“The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say!” the servant added hastily.

 

 _Of course_ , thought Uriell. She had felt she was not powerful enough when she attempted to close the Breach. Uriell refrained to make when she remembered it. As she drifted away in her thoughts, the young elf went back to her feet, and took a few steps back towards the door: “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’.”

 

“And where is she?” asked Uriell in haste before the elf could escape. She was lost, she didn’t know where she was, _how could she possibly find Cassandra in such a place?_

 

Uriell stood and the servant took a few more steps toward the exit. “In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor,” stammered the frightened elf. “‘At once’, she said.”

 

Uriell stayed still as the young elf escaped and closed the door behind her. The clamor coming from outside made her feel uncomfortable. She was not eager to go outside and meet the people of Haven on her way, but Uriell knew she would have to leave this place sooner or later. Some of the people might still think she was responsible for the Divine’s death, and this time, Cassandra wouldn’t be there to protect her against her opponents.

_Come on, you’re a Trevelyan. Go outside. Face them. Show them who you are. Everything will be okay._

 

Uriell timidly opened the door and stepped into daylight. The sunlight blinded her and the cold was biting at her bare cheeks and neck, as the warmth of the room still radiated behind her. She closed the door carefully, before realizing she was not alone. Two guards stood a few meters away from the door, a fist firmly closed over their chests where their heart resided. Uriell did not move as she was astounded by the epic scenery. A crowd gathered behind the two guards, staring at her. She straightened herself in a military fashion, fully aware of all the inquisitive eyes following her every move.

She gulped and dared not move. _Why were they all gathered here? Did they all already know of her recovery, or were they just waiting outside for her to wake up?_ She felt embarrassed by such a treatment, even more since she had slept for three days and barely remembered of what happened the day she closed the rift in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She felt unworthy.

 

 _I have to get to Cassandra,_ she thought _._ She looked up to the horizon. Usually, the Chantry was supposed to dominate every city and village. It was most likely to be erected at the highest point of the place.

Uriell studied her surroundings, avoiding eye contact with the excited crowd at her feet. It looked like a village. Snow fell lazily and covered the ground, the barricades, and the houses with a thin white layer of flakes. _Barricades?_ The place was a peaceful village preparing for an attack. The small wooden houses seemed to be old but still in a pretty good shape.

She saw stone walls and stairs going up the village. The crowd in front of her blocked any other way she could have taken. She guessed it was the only path to get to the Chantry. Aware of herself due to the whispering, the curious eyeing, and intense stares, Uriell wasn’t able to make a move even if she wanted to. She kept her face straight as she struggled inside, and finally she took a deep breath and a first step toward the crowd. As she came closer, people stopped talking and stepped back to let her pass.

 

“It’s her! It’s the Herald of Andraste!"

 

 _Herald of Andraste? What kind of title was that?_ Uriell didn’t stop walking and went slowly in the direction of the stairs, keeping her head high and still avoiding any eye contact. She stopped listening to the whispers following her as people let her reach the great stairs.

Two big ferelden dogs statues sat on each side of the stairs. Up in the distance, she could perfectly see the shape of the Chantry’s roof, red flags flapping in the air.

Uriell’s pace accelerated as she climbed up the stairs. People stayed behind her and did not follow. She let out a sigh of relief but she knew they were still looking at her.

 

As she arrived, she first saw a plethora of hastily set tents and a campfire. Houses delineated the left side of the small camp, another building stood on the right side. From where she stood, she couldn’t see where the right path would take her, so she rounded the camp by the left. As she passed by the house, she could hear clerics talking to each other.

 

“That’s her. She stopped the Breach from getting any bigger.”

 

“I heard she was supposed to close it entirely,” whispered a skeptical one. Uriell turned her head in another direction as she came closer to the group. She had no reason to, but she felt ashamed, as if they were judging her openly.

 

“Still, it’s more than anyone else has done! Demons would have had us otherwise.” Uriell held back a blush as she heard the praise. She wasn’t worthy of it; she barely knew what she was doing. All the credit should have gone to the mark in her hand that she scarcely controlled. Uriell walked by the clerics and gave them a quick nod as she reached their side.

 

“Still a lot of rifts left all over. Little cracks in the sky. She can seal those though- The Herald of Andraste.”

 

Uriell’s guts felt like they were made of steel, heavy and cold, and she frowned anxiously. _Again this title, Herald of Andraste. Well, it would have pleased Mother and aunt Lucille if they ever knew._ Uriell sighed and focused on the Chantry. She climbed a small incline, and the building was just a few meters from her.

 

“Good luck sealing those rifts!” Uriell didn’t see who was addressing her. _She might need more than just luck._

 

“Walk safely, Herald of Andraste,” murmured another cleric.

 

In front of the Chantry, to Uriell’s right, bigger tents were set. They surely belonged to someone important, given their size and all the equipment gathered around. Uriell walked a few steps and stopped in front of the religious building. _Maker, that one was impressive_.

The houses of this village were humble, old, made of wood, while the Chantry testified of the wealth and opulence of the religious bodies. It was made of clear stones, the only real building of the village, as wide as the surroundings allowed it to be. Chiseled alcoves embellished the Chantry doors. The sun of the Andrastians embellished every wall of the chantry, engraved in the wooden doors. The ferelden style of the building was austere and yet impressive. Uriell couldn’t help but admire the construction. She noticed a gathering of clerics in front of the Chantry doors, all eyes laid upon her. She realized they must have been waiting for her. Uriell still felt uncomfortable but she braced herself and walked slowly toward the entrance.

 

“... Most of the grand clerics died at the Conclave. Who will lead us now?”

 

Uriell hastily made her way and laid her hands on the door. She wasn’t ready to confront the accusations of murdering the Divine yet. She couldn’t remember what had happened the night of the explosion and it caused her anguish. No, she was sure she had not, _she could not_ have killed the Divine. All she could remember was that she had entered the ruins. Why? She didn’t know. Then faded memories of being chased, a hand… and nothing else. _What could it mean?_ But most of all, there was one thing she was sure of, she would have never killed the Divine.

 

“Andraste didn’t have grand clerics telling her what to do, and she managed nonetheless,” retorted another cleric.

 

“You expect us to be like Andraste?”

 

“Someone must”.

 

Uriell sensed the last sentence was directed at her, but she shook her head, ignoring the looks on her back. She finally pushed the doors open, and entered the Chantry.

 

Uriell’s mouth opened in awe as she got struck by the beauty and the warmth of the building. The sparse natural light came in from one single window near the roof and bathed the entrance of the Chantry with an eerie glow; otherwise torches fixed on the side spans and scattered candles on the ground were the only source of light. Reflections of the firelight flickered on the clear stones and polished wooden statues framing the nave. Uriell walked down the nave toward the transept, in contemplation of the carved Ferelden dogs watching over the aisles and the building heart. She was alone.

She stood still at the crossing and smelt the bitter scent of incense and low burning candles. It reminded her of the Chantry in Ostwick. Uriell dropped her eyes to the floor. She remembered the clerics and the Sisters of Ostwick, the Templars coming to pray the Maker at least once a week. She remembered all the times she had had to accompany her mother to the chapel, and how much she hated it. Lavaliel would usually wait for her on the outside, and once her duty was done, Uriell left her mother to her prayers and met her friend in the city.

 

 _Lavaliel._ Uriell’s fingers curled into a fist as the face of her friend appeared clearly in her mind. Her emotive, delicate, clumsy friend. Uriell left her behind the night of the explosion. She didn’t know if she had survived, nor Ives, nor the rest of the party that left Ostwick with her. Uriell repressed her hopes, and her heart sank in her chest as she remembered Lavaliel’s pure smile. How could she have survived? The blast had killed thousands of people that night. A tear formed at the corner of Uriell’s eye. Her unique friend. If she hadn’t left the camp that night, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Lavaliel would still be alive.

Then she thought of Kariell. Her half-brother, already broken by the disappearance of Elliel, his little sister. Kariell who was alone in Ostwick, facing the terrible treatment her mother must have planned for him. Kariell whose only remaining family was his mother, Lavaliel.

 

_“You have to promise me that you’ll do nothing reckless, and take care of my mother.”_

 

Uriell refrained a sob as she thought of their last conversation. She had promised, and yet, she had failed.

 

“When we are apart...” whispered Uriell. She wiped her tears with both her hands as she pulled herself together. It was not the moment for her to crumble. She had to find Cassandra, she would mourn later, no matter how deep her grief. “When we are apart,” she repeated, “always remember to keep your head high and your brightest smile, until we meet again.”

Uriell closed her eyes. It was what Lavaliel told her when she was a child, every time Uriell had to leave the castle away from her. A shy smile spread on Uriell’s dark face. Lavaliel wouldn’t like her to be crying. Lavaliel would tell her to stay strong, and show no weakness. “I’ll write to Kariell as soon as this meeting is finished,” she told herself, “and try to find if there were any survivors from the explosion.” As she planned everything, she stilled herself and looked at the chancel door. It was time for her to face whatever Cassandra wanted to tell her.

 

As she drew closer, Uriell could hear loud voices arguing from behind the door. She recognized Cassandra and a familiar male voice; she had found them. She pushed the door to interrupt their conversation. Uriell scanned the room quickly. Two templars guarded the door from the inside, Cassandra and Ser Roderick were arguing around a central table in front of Uriell, and Leliana stayed silent on Cassandra’s opposite side of the table.

 

“Chain her!” ordered Chancellor Roderick to the Templars, pointing at Uriell. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

 

“Disregard that, and leave us,” countered Cassandra.

 

The Templars nodded and took their leave, closing the door behind them. The tension in the room was thick as the Chancellor snapped, “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat, I will not ignore it,” answered Cassandra.

 

Uriell stepped into the conversation hastily to support the Seeker: “I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me.”

 

“Yet you _live_ ,” stressed the Chancellor. “A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

 

“Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.” Cassandra seemed concerned. Leliana came by her side and continued: “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave, someone Most Holy did not expect.”

 

Uriell nodded. When they came back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes in a desperate attempt to close the rifts and the Breach, they heard voices. Solas, the elven apostate who had joined Cassandra and Uriell’s party, had told them it was a memory caught in the rupture of the Veil, that still lingered between their world and the Fade.

 

There was the voice of a man, “Still the sacrifice,” he said; then Divine Justinia’s, who called for help. No doubt someone was attempting to end her life. And finally, they had heard Uriell’s voice: “What’s going on there?”, before the memory faded away and they had stood silent in disbelief near the rift of the temple. The sound of her own voice still rang in her ears, but Uriell couldn’t remember a thing about the Divine’s death.

 

Uriell was drawn back to reality as she heard Chancellor Roderick loudly blurting: “ _I_ am a suspect?”

 

“ _You_ , and many others,” Leliana replied sharply.

 

“But not the prisoner?” Roderick turned toward Uriell, and she was surprised he wasn’t growling with the face he was making.

 

“I heard the voices in the Temple,” cut in Cassandra. “The Divine called to her for help.”

 

But the Chancellor was still skeptical: “So her survival, that thing on her hand-- all a coincidence?”

 

“Providence,” argued the Seeker. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

 

The shock hit Uriell hard as she realized what Cassandra meant. _Providence?_ As for now, she didn’t feel entrusted with a holy mission. “You-- You can’t honestly believe I’m any kind of ‘Chosen One’?” asked Uriell with rounded eyes.

 

“We are all subjects to the Will of the Maker, whether we wish it or not,” retorted Cassandra piously, frowning at Uriell’s reaction. “No matter what you are or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.” Cassandra stepped back in the direction of a bookshelf at the back of the room.

 

“The Breach remains,” said Leliana, “and your Mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

 

“This is not for you to decide!” objected Chancellor Roderick.

 

Cassandra came back between the two of them and slammed a heavy book on the table, and laid an impatient finger over its cover. The sun of the Andrastian Chantry ornamented the front of the volume, an eye drawn in its core. “You know what this is, Chancellor,” underlined Cassandra. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

 

Uriell stayed still, looking alternatively at the book and Cassandra. _The Inquisition?_ The word rang a bell, but she couldn’t remember where she had read about it. She stared at the Seeker who came nearer the Chancellor with a severe and commanding attitude: “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With, or without your approval.”

Cassandra almost stepped on the Chancellor’s feet, her face a few centimetres away from his, her look and gesture threatening and daring the cleric to reply. He swept away from this outrage and left the room without a word. Uriell felt bad for the man, even if he was the one here who wished her death.

 

“This is the Divine’s directive,” said Leliana as she rounded the table and came by Cassandra’s side. “Rebuild the Inquisition of Old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” Leliana turned her face at Uriell. Uriell gulped under her analytical eyes. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.”

 

“But we have no choice,” replied Cassandra. “We must act now. With you at our side.”

 

The eyes of the two woman landed on Uriell. She straightened herself as she assessed the situation. “Er-- What is the ‘Inquisition of Old’ exactly?” she asked timidly.

 

Leliana was the one who explained: “It preceded the Chantry; people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

 

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order; but the Templars have lost their way” said the Seeker calmly. “We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

 

Uriell bit her lip. She knew that if she tried to go without joining this ‘Inquisition’, many will still think she was guilty of the attack of the Conclave. She might even be hunted for this. But she was already too involved to turn her back on this now. She had to be part of it. She would help to save Thedas. For her, who wished to be a knight, wasn’t it even a bigger honor? She would not protect a bann, or a teyrn, but be part of something greater. Maybe, she would be able to avenge Lavaliel and her people who died at the Conclave. And finally, she still had this painful mark on her hand, and did not know anything about it. The Inquisition seemed to be the best option.

 

She hesitated a few seconds, then she turned her head to Cassandra and gave her a deep serious look: “If you’re truly trying to restore order…”

 

Leliana voice cut off her hesitations: “That is the plan.”

 

“Help us fix this, before it’s too late.” Cassandra extended a hand toward Uriell and stared at her. Uriell gladly shook her hand and returned her gaze. For a brief moment, they both smiled at each other. Uriell would be part of this new organization. She was not sure what to think of all of this. She knew only little about the past Inquisition, and all it evoked her was violence; she sincerely hoped this one would be led for the best.

 

Cassandra went out first. She said she had to gather Haven at the doors of the Chantry for the great announcement. Leliana flew behind her, she had to dispatch the word of the Inquisition’s rebirth with ravens. Uriell went out of the Chantry and waited as people arrived one by one hearing the word of the Inquisition. The blonde warrior stood still and straight, hands on her back. This conversation had drained the the little of her energy she had left. Her mind was a mess, still mourning the death of her friend, but also hoping for a better world, hoping for this Inquisition to do something that would really matter.

 

She was quickly joined by a pretty lady in a golden dress. Her dark hair was elegantly tied and braided on the top of her hair, her perfume was strong and sweet, and her manners gave her all away as a distinguished lady. She came by Uriell’s side and gave her a polite smile, that Uriell returned her. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks and she looked away. _What would such a nice Lady be doing there?_

A few seconds later, a blonde-haired and strong-looking warrior took place at her other side. The man had just displayed on the Chantry door the official document sealing the birth of the Inquisition. She recognized him as the commander of the soldiers she met a few moments before entering the temple with Cassandra three days ago. She had not noticed the scar on his lip at that time, and she couldn’t help but stare at it for a short moment.

 

When Uriell turned her head to have a look behind her, she saw Leliana standing a few meters away, in the shadows of the trio. A clamor came from below and she faced again the crowd forming at her feet in front of the Chantry. Cassandra came back, followed by excited soldiers and she climbed a few stairs to stand up with the small group. They stood silent, in front of Haven’s people, some of them celebrating, other watching with concern.

 

Uriell’s heart skipped a beat as she realized most of them were looking at her with hope. A heavy burden suddenly dropped on her shoulder as she realized the role she would have to play in the upcoming months after that. Angst and fear mixed up with her grief and she barely succeeded to keep her small smile on her face. The cheering of the crowd didn’t help her, and made her even more anxious and self-aware.

 

_“When we are apart...”_

 

Uriell suddenly turned her head at the sight of dark complicated braids within the crowd.

 

_“... Always remember to keep your head high and your brightest smile...”_

 

Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw the long pointy ears, the pale skin, the deep blue eyes, the delicate smile. A tear ran down the elf’s face in the crowd. Another tear ran down Uriell’s cheek.

 

_“... Until we meet again.”_

  
“I’m back, Lalli,” whispered Uriell with a warm and genuine grin.


	5. A beacon in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally gets to meet personally the woman the people called 'The Herald of Andraste'. She appears to be quite a complex person and Cullen is quite confused by the different assets of her personnality.  
> Uriell manages to sneak away after the first Inquisition's meetings and found back her friend Lavaliel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, chapter 5! I'd like to thank my beta readers cometeclipse, sephiratales, sewluscious and guileandgall for their help!!!  
> I apologize in advance for all the in-game parts of that chapter and promise there will be less in the next ones. I've finally set up the background, now I can go for more story telling. Hope you'll like it, and feel free to drop me a word if you find any mistakes I'd forget to correct. After all, English is still not my first language ;)

_ Good. It was not perfect, but at least it was good. _

 

The commander halted and gave a quick glance around the chancel with a satisfied smile. The moment Cassandra Pentaghast proclaimed the Inquisition reborn, he returned to work immediately. Once the word spread around Haven, Cullen went back inside the Chantry and took good care of changing the chancel into a proper war room. He pushed aside furniture, placing it against the wall, and ensured the wide and sturdy wooden table stood at the perfect center of the room. No detail was overlooked;  there were  new candles, maps of Ferelden and the Orlesian Empire lay beside one another, weighted down books on history and strategy. The bookcase at the back of the room contained other volumes that might prove insightful. The room was warm, welcoming, but also gave away a studious atmosphere.  _ Yes, it is good. For now _ . 

 

Cullen Stanton Rutherford was eager to work. Now he could finally do something that matters. He could finally help people and maybe, maybe! forget about his past. A few months ago when Cassandra asked him to follow her and join the Inquisition the Divine was planning, he left everything to dedicate his life to the task. He was-- no, he used to be a Templar. He served as Knight-Captain in Kirkwall, under the absolute power of the Knight-Commander Meredith. Cullen frowned at the memory and washed it away with an irritated rub at his neck. Just thinking of those dark times sickened him. 

 

The sounds of footsteps coming from behind the door broke through his thoughts, and he composed himself with military discipline. The door revealed a gracious lady dressed in blue and gold entered, followed by Leliana. The lady was sweet in all ways possible; her skin bore small freckles over a brown tan, her hair smelt like cinnamon and jasmine, and she comported herself with an utterly delicate femininity. Behind her soft curled lips and sparkling eyes, Cullen could sense intelligence and brilliant insight. 

 

Leliana contrasted greatly with the woman introduced as the Inquisition’s ambassador. When the Antivan shone with gold and warm tones, Leliana wore silvers and grays, which were significantly cooler. Leliana’s milky white skin, splattered with slightly pink freckles where the sunlight touched her, almost shone behind her flaming red hair. If Josephine Montilyet was the sun, then Leliana was the moon.

 

“Ah, Commander!” said the lady with a strong Antivan accent. “You’re already there. We shall have our first meeting then.”

 

_ Josephine Montilyet _ , thought Cullen. Leliana chose her specifically to represent the Inquisition as their ambassador. Her weapons of choice were words, associations, and social mores;  she might be as trained in using them as he was with a sword and a shield. Cullen gave Leliana and Josephine a quick salute as they joined him near the table. 

 

The two women stared at the maps on the great table and exchanged a smile. They seemed to know each other quite well, and Cullen was not sure it would be to his benefit.

 

“It looks like everything is ready,” giggled Josephine. 

 

“I told you he was the man for the job,” replied Leliana.

 

Cullen frowned at them, which made their smiles grow larger.  _ Maker’s breath _ , he had not even imagined his colleagues would be this  _ childish _ . Surely the Inquisition of old did not suffer such giggling during official meetings.

 

“We have a Breach to close,” he said firmly. The two ladies gave him a surprised look, but at least they stopped laughing. Leliana crossed her arms and informed him, “Cassandra and ‘the Herald’ shall be here in a moment.” Josephine nodded and drew a quill from a small satchel at her hip, bringing it to the elegant writing board she brought with her.

As Josephine prepared for the meeting, Cullen’s mind drifted away, thinking of the old Inquisition.  _ Into darkness, unafraid  _ was their motto. Back to the time of the first Blight, the Inquisition had raised to fight the heretics and defend Thedas. Could this new Inquisition ever be worthy of such a name, he wondered. 

 

The door creaked open again, and Cullen straightened as Cassandra stormed inside, followed by the lady who had appeared from the rift in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She wore full heavy armor, and stood straight and still in front of him across the table. She bore the features of a well disciplined warrior. Cullen appreciated that. Her pearly smooth skin and long dark lashes gave away her noble lineage. Golden locks curls intertwined at the top of her head in a very tight bun, from which little wispy curls kept escaping. The fuzzy hair around her head shone with the candles light, and eventhough she stayed composed in a military fashion, Cullen noticed the delicate but frustrated tilts of her head, trying to get out of her vision a thin strand of hair. The light green of her eyes evoked in Cullen ideas of  freshly cut grass and moss. Her lips, thin and carnelian red, bore a sweet polite smile, which brightened her face a little. Cullen gulped as he realized he was staring and averted his eyes to some dark corner of the room. She did not seem to have noticed.

 

Cassandra, however, met his gaze with a serious expression. She turned to the young lady, and introduced Cullen by a sign of her hand. “You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

 

The lady’s attention focused on him and Cullen shifted to face her properly. She looked at him with encouraging eyes as she awaited for his introduction. Now that he embraced the full sight of her face, he remembered the armed woman who fought bravely by his side before the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

 

“It was only for a moment on the battlefield. I’m pleased you survived.” For a brief moment, he smiled, sincerely. He truly was glad she survived the skirmish; the Inquisition needed her powers to close the Breach. He hated to admit it, but she was their only hope.

 

Cassandra pursued the introduction of Josephine Montyliet, and Leliana, their spymaster.  Cullen stared at the blond lady as she introduced herself in return, “I’m pleased to meet you all. I’m Uriell Trevelyan, last daughter of Teyrn Trevelyan. At your service.” 

 

Cullen scowled. He was not fond of nobles and he hoped her manners did not betray any kind of weakness during a physical fight. Cassandra broke the silence as she told Uriell, “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

 

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana seized the opportunity. 

 

Cullen growled and his face darkened. Calling out to mages for help was the last option he would consider. “I still disagree,” he retorted. “The Templars could serve as well.” After all, when it came to magic and disabling magic abilities, the Templars were the most versed. They could stabilize the Breach to allow Trevelyan to do her thing and close it; instead of  _ feeding it _ with magic powers and risking anything unsafe. Plus, the fear of betrayal and abuse of power still lingered in Cullen’s mind.  _ What if the mages turned against us at the last moment? _

 

Cassandra sighed heavily at his remark: “We need  _ power _ , Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark--”

 

“Might destroy us all.” Cullen’s could not keep his cool anymore.  _ Why wouldn’t they listen to him? _ “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so--”

 

“Pure speculation.” 

 

Cullen turned to Leliana. The calm and cold face she kept in place was another argument against him. He bit his lip and immediately regret his temper fluctuation. Cullen gave a quick glance to the startled Uriell who stared in disbelief at the quarrel and felt a rush of heat spreading on his cheeks.  _ And he was the one who judged Leliana and Josephine childish earlier _ . Cullen cleared his throat: “I was a Templar. I know what they are capable of.”

 

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet.” All eyes focused on the ambassador, who stepped into the conversation. As the calm returned to the room, she continued, “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition. And  _ you _ , specifically.”

 

Uriell’s eyes widened as Josephine pointed at her with the top of her quill, surprised to be the center of the attention again, and her expression darkened at once. The ambassador explained to the young lady how delicate was the situation. While some were calling her ‘the Herald of Andraste’, most of the Chantry declared it blasphemy. 

 

Cullen watched for Uriell’s reaction. Very pious himself, he wanted to know the ‘Herald’s’ point of view on the matter. But no emotion broke her serious face, and she turned her attention back to Josephine. “It limits our options. Approaching the mages or the Templars for help is currently out of question.” 

 

Cullen frowned. The discussion on that matter was closed for now, but they’ll have to make a decision soon, and he would need to be prepared. Yes, he perfectly knew what mages were capable of and what might happen if their trust was placed in the wrong person.

 

“Just,” Cullen focused on Uriell as she finally spoke up, “How am I the  _ ‘Herald of Andraste?’ _ ”

 

He noticed how she chewed slightly on her lower lip and the concern in her eyes.  _ Of course _ , he thought. He had been told already that she did not remember anything from what happened when she stepped out of the Breach; and yet, he hoped she would bear some comforting words from Andraste and the Maker. She did not know anything more than they already did. 

 

Cassandra took the initiative to explain her, surprised Uriell had not guessed at the reactions on her own. She exposed how miraculous her survival from the blast appeared to all Thedas, and the tales about the woman seen in the rift when they found her. People believed that was Andraste. 

 

Uriell tensed and shifted from one foot to another anxiously. Her face had turned even paler than her fair skin already was. She looked away, unsure of how to answer. She had joined her hands behind her back, and Cullen glimpsed the slight tremor of her arms when she squeezed her fingers together. Being the center of all gossip was clearly not to her taste. An impulse of sympathy and concern rose in Cullen’s chest. Everyone  expected so much from her all at once, either salvation of the people, or her own death. Anyone would have broken down with such a heavy burden, and yet, she remained composed and stoic, trying to hide her fears and assessing the situation as a whole, and not only from her own perspective. Before he noticed, he directly addressed her with a comforting smile, “It’s quite the title, isn’t it? How do you feel about that?”

 

Her green eyes locked on his, inquisitive and yet anxious.  _ Maker, how could she have such an intense look? _ He saw clouds of uncertainty behind her straight face, and offered her an inviting nod, as if to make her understand she could now rely on them all. She did not have to keep her feelings to herself.

 

“I-- I’m not sure how I should feel,” she answered; and Cullen knew she spoke the truth. He chuckled at her pure reaction.

 

“The Chantry has decided that for you, it seems,” he laughed.

 

_ Is that a blush on her cheeks? _ The knot of her eyebrows loosened and a shy smile bloomed on her lips.

 

Leliana remarked: “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some you’re that sign.”

 

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” replied Josephine.

 

Uriell kept her eyes locked on Josephine. “Will the Chantry attack us?”

 

“With what?” mocked Cullen. “They have only words at their disposal.”

 

“And yet,” added Josephine with a calm voice, “they may bury us with them.”

 

“There is something you can do.” All heads turned to Leliana. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

 

Cullen sighed. He doubted that the effort of one cleric might help them reassure the whole Chantry, but Uriell agreed to meeting her. Her stature straightened with determination and Cullen refrained a gentle laugh at the sight. At least, she was devoted to their cause; ashe was. 

 

Leliana gave Uriell more information about Mother Giselle; she should be tending the wounded near Redcliffe in the Hinterlands, where the fights between mages and Templars seemed to never end. 

 

Cullen stepped in the conversation once again. “Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there.” Indeed, if he wasn’t sure of the importance of one cleric’s role in the Inquisition, displays of force and good will would do wonders. Who better than the Herald of Andraste could bear the flag of the Inquisition to the lands of Thedas?

 

Uriell nodded at his suggestion and gave him a bright smile. “They’ll see what the Inquisition is made of!”

 

A few minutes after that, the meeting ended, and they decided to meet again later in the afternoon to discuss of different matters and letters Josephine received before organizing Uriell’s departure for the Hinterlands. Uriell left the room in company of Cassandra and Leliana, with whom she shared a few words on a lighter note. Cullen followed behind them and closed the door. Josephine waved at him absentmindedly as she entered her office, and Cullen sighed. That meeting lasted longer than he expected. He should probably go to meet his recruits now, but he still had a lot of paperwork to do. 

 

Cullen finally decided to go out for a walk around Haven, to see if anyone needed anything; then he would get back to work. The sunlight almost blinded him as he walked out of the Chantry. He put his both hands on the pommel of his sword and scanned the surroundings. He noticed with surprise that Uriell was still there. He  thought she would go directly to her assigned quarters to rest, but she was talking to Haven’s people instead.

 

He didn’t move as he watched her talking with Leliana and Quartermaster Threnn, then she set off  in direction of the healer’s place.  _ What might she be doing? _ Cullen frowned at his own concern. She was an adult, an ally, he should not be worried about her. And yet, seeing her so cheerful was such a contrast with the way she acted back in the war room. Cullen sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

 

He followed her from afar, keeping an eye on her as she went from house to house. She talked with Adan, the healer, spent a long time listening to Solas, and discussed something with Varric alight with fervor. As he went through the village, commoners and soldiers greeted him and delivered reports. He fulfilled his duty while keeping an eye on Uriell. He couldn’t hear her, but his position was less suspicious that way. She spent some time inside the tavern too, and Cullen had to go away as Varric was giving him inquisitive looks.  _ Maker, what was he doing? _ It was certainly not his mission to watch over the Herald like that. He scolded himself for this stupid behaviour, and turned on his heels back to the Chantry. 

 

On his way, he passed groups of townsfolk gossiping with excitement. 

 

“What a sweet lady, don’t you think?”

 

“She agreed to help Adan find some rare herbs for his potions. We really need more cataplasms.”

 

“And her smile! How could people think she’s evil when she smiles like that?”

 

The commander cocked an eyebrow with a dubious look when no one gave him attention.  _ Is this how she plans to curry favor? _ It was too soon for him to tell so. At least, people seemed to appreciate her, and it would certainly ease the atmosphere in Haven. After all, she was supposed to bear all their hopes, and be their beacon in the dark.

 

***

 

Uriell stretched her arms above her head as she looked up into the clear sky. The pure blue faded into yellows and oranges as the sun began to set. The glowing lights stroked the snowy landscape of Haven with hints of amber and gold and shone on the surface of the frozen lake, creating an eerie atmosphere. Uriell was now part of the Inquisition and Haven would be the safest place she could rest. People had not yet decided on her responsibility in the Conclave explosion, and wherever she would go, there would surely be someone  muttering angrily at her, mostly thanks to the Chantry. And yet, she was at peace. Haven, the Inquisition, would now be her home.

 

_ Home. _ Uriell sighed. She had no desire to return to Ostwick. She had a goal now. Even if she still did not know how she got the mark and how it worked, if it could help close the rifts and save lives, so be it. She would stay here, be part of something bigger than her, and protect people. For Uriell, who had always wished to be a knight, this almost fulfilled her dreams. If being the Herald would help Thedas, then she would wear the title, she would endure the Chantry's attacks and bear the blade of the Inquisition. She would carry their words, strike when needed, be one of its soldiers. She would rather follow this path than wait for one chosen by her family. She wouldn’t be a burden for her parents anymore. There was only one thing to settle now; when and how would Kariell join them? 

 

At the thought, Uriell couldn’t help but smile genuinely. Lavaliel and Kariell would be free of Lady Maria Trevelyan’s bad treatment here. They could live here, with her, as friends and family. Even if she had to carry the burdensome title of Herald of Andraste and live in persistent danger, she had never felt this relieved in her life.

 

She hummed cheerfully as she walked away from the doors, in the direction of the nearby forest. Uriell took long breaths of fresh air and sighed with delight. She had spent a really long time in the windowless improvised war room. Her back still ached from being still all day, listening to the commander, the spymaster and the ambassador discussing their first move as the Inquisition. With so much information to assimilate in a such a short time her head ached and she felt dizzy. 

 

She passed by the soldiers tents and gave a quick look at their training. Some of them held their swords and shields awkwardly, it surely looked like the very first time they ever used one. A few stopped as she drew near and gave her a quick nod. She returned their salute with a simple smile, and tried not to pay attention to the whispers growing amongst them as she left the camp. Uriell wondered if she could ever get used to it. Last born of the Trevelyan family, she wasn't used to being in such a spotlight. Lost in her thoughts, Uriell finally reached the woods and wandered alone.

 

“The other side of the lake,” she told herself. That had been the only words Lavaliel said to Uriell that morning when she noticed her elven friend in the crowd. Once the Inquisition was introduced to Haven’s people, she entered the Chantry directly for the first Inquisition war room session. She left Lavaliel hastily only with this promise of meeting later. 

 

The last rays of daylight barely broke through the dense trees of Haven’s forest, and Uriell hoped she was not late. She had stayed a bit longer in Haven to get to know the other Inquisition members better and had not noticed the time passing by. Then there was the meeting to decide how to act with dignitaries who were sending them letters. She reached a clear plain among the trees, and Uriell saw her friend.

 

Lavaliel’s dark hair was braided at the top of her head, keeping her field of vision clear. Bow in hand, she nocked an arrow and focused on a target she had drawn on the tree at the opposite side of the plain. It was odd to see the elf in simple leather armor. Uriell had never seen Lavaliel in anything else but long feminine dresses and she couldn’t help but stare in awe at her friend. Lavaliel held her breath, nocked the arrow, and drew the bow. The arrow flew to the target and stuck into the trunk, a bit above the center.

 

“Almost there,” said Uriell as she leaned on a tree beside her.

 

Lavaliel startled and looked up at her with a shy smile. “I swear I can do better than that, my Lady.”

 

Uriell rolled her eyes and protested, “My Lady, again?” She smirked. “I thought we had already talked about it.”

 

Lavaliel hung her bow on her back and stood silent as she watched Uriell carefully. Uriell’s grin disappeared as they both looked at each other in disbelief. Lavaliel seemed fine and healthy. 

 

“Uriell…” Lavaliel tried to speak, opening and closing her mouth as she looked for words. Her eyes were wet and she wrung her hands nervously. Uriell looked upon her friend with concern, she always acted like this when she was about to cry. Her heart sank as she saw the signs of anguish and fear breaking the joyful mask Lavaliel was trying to wear. 

 

“Uriell, I-”

 

“Hush.”

 

Uriell broke the distance between them, and took Lavaliel in warm and comforting embrace.  _ It was no time for crying _ , she wanted to tell Lavaliel. Unless she wanted to convince herself too. Uriell’s arms tightened around her petite figure, circling her shoulders. She held her close, and buried her face in the crook of Lavaliel’s shoulder. A sob broke her friend’s voice. “I couldn’t save the others, I-”

 

“You did well, Lalli,” interrupted Uriell. “None of this was your fault.” She wished she could say that to herself, too. “I’m glad you’re still here. Thank you.”

 

The two friends stayed like that for a while. When Lavaliel finally composed herself, Uriell took her friend’s face in her both hands and leant her forehead on Lavaliel’s. The elf chuckled sheepishly, “I’m so glad you survived.”

 

“And so I am,” said Uriell. “But now you’ve got to tell me what happened all that time.”

 

As they picked up the arrows Lavaliel used for her training, she told her everything. How she had woken up after the explosion, how she had looked for her and stayed in a refugee’s camp. The last rays of sunlight were fading when they took the direction of Haven’s small town. Lavaliel told Uriell about how she had followed her to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and participated in the last battle. Uriell was amazed and impressed by Lavaliel’s abilities. She knew little about her friend’s past, only that she was skilled with a bow and daggers. She had never imagined her as a soldier. 

 

Uriell had to explain her own story after that. She told Lavaliel how she had met Cassandra, the dwaven rogue Varric and elven mage Solas. He was the one who had told her how to close the rifts. Surprisingly, closing them was as natural as breathing. All she had had to do was to reach out for the rifts and the pulsing magic in her hand would link her with them. It hurt atrociously, but when she had closed her fist on the links, they had never failed to break instantly. Lavaliel listened with concern and insisted on taking a look at her left hand, but it looked perfectly normal.

 

“It glows and hurts from time to time,” explained Uriell. “Mostly when I’m close to the rifts. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine.”

 

Well, that was not totally true. Apprehension still lingered in her heart each time she thought about it. She was living with some kind of unnatural magic in her palm that made her burn with pain each time she was in the presence of demons, and sometimes at random during the day. Uriell just didn’t want to make Lavaliel more anxious than she already was. 

 

They finally came out of the woods. The soldiers who had been training earlier were now packing their equipment; it was almost time for supper. Lavaliel stopped in front of a tent, set a bit away from the principal camp. The tent was covered in fresh snow and wide enough for two persons to sleep in.

 

“Hold on,” she told Uriell before she entered  the tent. Uriell stood silent and gave quick nods to the leaving soldiers who called out to her. After a few seconds, Lavaliel lifted the front part of the tent’s entrance. She was holding quills and inks, a few papers and a small wooden board. She stepped out and asked Uriell timidly, “Would you mind writing to Kariell with me?”

 

Uriell’s smile blossomed on her face. “I’d love to!”

 

They sat side by side on a rock near the tent, and discussed what to tell Kariell in their letter. They had to be quick, since the sun sank behind mountains at the horizon. They agreed on keeping it simple, and Uriell wrote under the diction of Lavaliel. 

 

_ Kariell,  _

_ There was an explosion at the Conclave. Many people died, even the Divine.  _

_ Lavaliel and I are safe. We have been recruited by the Inquisition, in Haven, Frostback Mountains. _

_ Come and join us. _

_ Ur’.  _

 

Uriell did not feel satisfied with her letter, but Lavaliel insisted, “It must be short. We’ll tell him everything later.” Lavaliel fold the paper carefully and put in in a pocket of her hunter’s coat. “I’ll send a raven later. You should go back to the Chantry. Aren’t people waiting for you?”

 

“Oh, right. Cassandra,” confirmed Uriell. “I told her I’d dine with her. I should probably go now.”

 

The two friends rose to their feet and exchanged a warm look. The knot in Uriell’s shoulders loosened as she bathed in a friendly and comforting atmosphere around Lavaliel. Kariell would come to them too, and they would finally be together on their own. 

 

A loud neigh broke the silence, followed by curses and the sound of heavy footsteps. Uriell and Lavaliel turned at once. Up ahead in the distance, coming from the first barricades which protected Haven’s area, two soldiers of the Inquisition were struggling with a horse. The animal apparently had a very foul temper.

 

Uriell stilled and her eyes widened as the soldiers managed to bring it closer, pulling on the reins and avoiding its hoofs. The horse was black, with strays of red on its muzzle and white dots around its eyes. Uriell ran towards the two men, leaving Lavaliel as startled as her behind.

 

“Beware, Herald!” shout one of the soldiers. “This beast is out of control!”

 

“He was roaming around Haven,” added the other one. “We wanted to bring it in, but…”

Uriell stopped in front of the dark horse. Its amber eyes shone when it looked down at her, and let out a final ferocious whinny. The horse pulled on its reins and sent the two soldiers away. Uriell stood alone in front of the horse, and frowned. “Diavolo, still!”

 

The black stallion responded to her order and stared at Uriell until her hand laid on his muzzle. She felt Diavolo’s tension dissipate as she stroked his mane and came closer to the animal. “You’ve found me Diavolo, good boy.” 

 

The stallion turned his head away, abruptly.

 

“There you go,” chuckled Uriell with an affectionate smile. “Pouting again. I’m sorry for leaving you behind.” Diavolo looked at her from the corner of his eyes, as Uriell took the reins and pulled gently to show him the way. “Come, I’ll give you apples. This is your new home.”


	6. Some things never change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uriell finally leaves for the Hinterland, accompanied by Varric, Solas and Cassandra; while Lavaliel stays in Haven. The dark-haired elf looks for a way to put her skills at use for the Inquisition, but she did not imagine the past would catch up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Guileandgall, Cometeclipse and Sephiratales for beta-reading this article!

The flickering of the campfire cast long shadows around her and Uriell’s eyes sparkled with the reflection of the flames. Uriell had left few days ago for the Hinterlands, accompanied by Varric, Solas, Cassandra, and a group of the Inquisition’s soldiers. Uriell sat by the fire, her head laying on her clasped hands over her knees as she was listening to Varric's tales. She asked him details about Kirkwall, eager to know more about the battles and the heroism of the Champion of Kirkwall, Elian Hawke. Stories of her strength and her sharp tongue had spread all across the Free Marches to Ostwick, and Uriell had read all the books from _The Tale Of The Champion_ series. She had plenty of questions to ask, and Varric found in Uriell a very passionate audience. She suspected him of lying from time to time just to see her gasp and wait for him to continue. They both smiled at each other as she asked him to tell her once again about the Qunari's attack on Kirkwall.

 

Cassandra left their company, retiring  to the tent she shared with Uriell. She had taken the first watch of the night with a few soldiers, claiming the excitement disabled her from sleeping. _Actually, she was worried; what could await them in the Hinterlands? Would her nightmares will be back tonight?_ The others went to sleep, but Varric insisted upon staying with her during her watch, since “his own would follow right after hers", but Uriell suspected he might have see through her nervousness.

 

For the moment, they hadn't met any enemy on their way to the Hinterlands, but better safe than sorry; besides, Uriell enjoyed Varric’s attention while she struggled not to fall asleep. Her eyes darted to Solas. The elven mage was sleeping peacefully a few meters from them, in front of the tent he was supposed to share with Varric.

 

"Why is he sleeping outside?" Uriell finally asked to Varric. The dwarf grinned and patted her back: "Maybe Chuckles likes the Fade the way it is outside."

 

Uriell watched Varric pick up a stick and poke at the fire. The dwarf fascinated her; he was so much unlike the tales she had been told about the Orzammar citizens. But as he said himself, he was not one of them. Born on the surface, he was a merchant, a businessman, but also a deadly rogue, and captivating writer. His clever tongue wove words into the best tales, and his quill captured them for posterity.

 

She had promised she would read all his different books, and he chuckled about that. "I don't know if you'd like to read _all_ my books, Herald. Some might not be to your taste." He winked and closed the conversation, but it intrigued Uriell all the more and sparked her curiosity about his work.

 

"I guess it's officially my turn," he finally said, breaking  the comfortable silence lingering between them. He gave her another grin and pointed at her tent. "You should sleep, Herald. You have bags under your eyes."

 

Uriell nodded and told the dwarf goodnight as she got to her feet, but she knew she would not sleep. No matter how tired she was, or how tired she would look on the morrow, she was not eager to walk the Fade in her dreams. If it was not demons, her own memories lurked in the dark, awaiting her slumber to torture her. Uriell’s brows knitted in apprehension. She bit her lip when she reached the tent, her face hidden in darkness, then she took a deep breath. _What could she do now to gain time before she drifted away under her blankets?_

 

"I should write to Lalli," she thought. _Yes_ , that was the best option. Determined, she entered the massive tent silently.

 

Cassandra was not sleeping yet. Lying on her back in her bedroll on the floor, she had kept the candle on the small desk alight. A book was open on her folded knees, and she was writing something over its white pages; it seemed to be a journal. When she noticed Uriell, she greeted her with a gesture of her hand.

 

"Oh, Herald," she told her, "You can blow out the candle if you wish. I can finish tomorrow."

 

"It's okay, Cassandra," replied Uriell as she squatted near her satchel and took out a quill and parchment. "I was going to write a letter, if you don't mind."

 

"Please do,"  said Cassandra as she turned back to her own writing. Uriell sat on the rustic chair,  spread the paper in front of her, and stroked her jaw with the feathery tip of her quill. What would she write about? Ah yes, her travel.

 

***

 

_Dear Lalli,_

_Everything is going well. We've been out and traveling for nearly four days now, and Varric told me we will arrive at the scout camp soon. We did not encounter any rebel mages or rogue templars, but last night, I found a giant spider right beside my tent!!! What’s wrong with spiders here? I had to wait for Cassandra to kill it before getting out of my tent. I can still hear Varric’s laughter._

_How are things going at Haven? Any news from Kariell?_

_Can’t wait to see you two again. Let’s train together when I’m back!_

_Your friend,  
Ur’. _

Lavaliel could not help but giggle each time she read the letter. The Herald of Andraste, carrying all expectations and hopes of Thedas, afraid of spiders. Some things may never change.

Sitting on the hard ground of her tent, Lavaliel quickly checked to see if everything was in order. She shoved the letter into her satchel, adjusted the strap on her shoulder, and finally exited. The bright light of sunrise slowly pierced the horizon. She welcomed the fresh air on her face as she stretched her arms above her head and let out a pleased sigh. It had been ten days since Uriell left for the Hinterlands, and Lavaliel was still waiting for another letter. She was far more concerned about the absence of reply from her son.

 

Kariell would be fine, she hoped. Lavaliel’s expression darkened as she remembered Lady Maria Trevelyan and her cruelty. Kariell was strong, the strongest of them all. If someone could resist Lady Trevelyan’s bad treatment, it would be him. Still, guilt lingered in Lavaliel’s heart. She should not have let him behind. He should have come with them. But if he had, Lady Trevelyan would have found out, and sought revenge for the outrage. Of course, if he left her now, the noble woman would still hold it as an insult to her house, but at least they would be under the Inquisition’s protection.

 

The dark-haired elf shook her head and clenched her fists. If she did not receive any answer from him beforeUriell’s return, she would ask permission to go back to Ostwick herself to try to free her son. She would not let him fall prey to Lady Trevelyan’s claws, and Lavaliel had no doubt the cruel woman would be even more hateful once she had heard about her daughter’s new title.

 

The sounds of waking soldiers brought Lavaliel back from her thoughts as the camp slowly turned active. Some of the recruits got out of their tents already in full armor, ready to begin the morning with training. A young servant brought a whole basket of bread and fruits, and started preparing breakfast on a large wooden table near the campfire. Lavaliel’s mouth watered with the scent of fresh bread. It would soon be the hour for food distribution to the refugees.

 

Her guts turned into iron at the thoughts of the other people who had to seek protection under the Inquisition’s banners. Children, elderly people; and most of the able-bodied men and women did not know how to fight or hunt. So many mouths to feed, and yet still no ideas how to put their skills to use. Lavaliel was grateful the Inquisition offered them food and a place to sleep, but she felt guilty and helpless for not doing more. She was a servant; she could cook or just answer daily needs for the Inquisition members. She was skilled with a bow; she could hunt. Lavaliel needed to find a job, a role to serve under the Inquisition, and she decided that day she would look for her right place in the organization.

 

She stood near her tent, watching the recruits prepare. _Should she join them? Become an archer for the Inquisition’s army?_ The muffled sounds of steps in the snow caught her attention and she noticed Leliana walking side by side with a tall and muscular man. She soon recognized the fur mantle and identified the blond man as the commander of the Inquisition forces. _What was his name again?_ _Commander Rutherford._ Lavaliel studied the two humans as they stopped at the end of the stairs leading to the training camp, not so far from her.

 

“You’ve got great recruits, Commander,” teased Leliana with a malicious smile.

The blond warrior shrugged and let out a sigh. “They’re not ready yet. Most of them don’t even know which side of the sword they should grab.”

“They’ll get it soon enough, once they get hit by the wrong side.”

The Commander frowned upon Leliana’s jest and remained silent.

After a few seconds, the spymaster nodded and added, “Let me know if some of them are willing to join my men. The best of them, the most clever. Ten, no more. I need reliable and experienced people for small missions. Make sure they know how to use a dagger.”

 

Sister Leliana turned around and began climbing the stairs as the commander headed towards his soldiers, calling them for the morning training. _That might be something I could do_. After all, her short adventure outside the camps when she followed Uriell to the Temple of Sacred Ashes was a proof she did not forget everything about her training. She made up her mind, and silently followed Leliana through the small village, towards the Chantry.

 _Should she see if she could still rely on her stealth abilities?_ Images of Denerim flashed through her mind as she tried to hide her presence. She noticed how easily her body remembered the tricks to muffle the sound of her steps, how natural it was for her to move without being seen.

 

_Not being seen. Dark narrow streets. The stink of blood. Holding her breath. Dead elven bodies. Her mother._

 

Lavaliel stopped in her tracks, short on breath. She leaned her back against a tree as the memories overwhelmed her. _Why did she think about Denerim?_ She remembered her childhood, running bare feet in the streets of the alienage. She remembered the hunger and the pain, the absence of her father, the unspoken sadness of her mother. Lavaliel’s heart sank as her sick, pallid, and skinny face came back to her. Lavaliel remembered the first time she had stolen to feed her family. Of course, she got caught. She was just an inexperienced elven brat, she didn’t even know she was doing something bad.

Lavaliel remembered the dark-haired human who paid the merchant to calm his anger. The shady guild. Her actions and her petite body caught their attention, and the man had offered her jobs against training. Dodgy jobs. Narrow streets and dark alleys. At first, it was only small thefts, picking locks, being their lookout; but she had appeared skilfull. She was taught how to make her own poisons and how to wield daggers with great proficiency, then she was given her first bow. _Yes,_ she had mastered the art of stealth and how to go unnoticed; but Lavaliel also had learned the most efficient ways to kill someone and leave no traces. _Oh, how she liked it._ _The feeling of power. Blood. That coppery taste in her mouth._ Until she had finally met Titus Trevelyan.

 

“Were you looking for me?”

 

Lavaliel gasped as she noticed Leliana standing in front of her. _She forgot her target._ A rush of blood to her face made her cheeks burn under the inquisitive look of the redhead, while a cold sweat ran down her spine. That was not what she expected from a first conversation with someone as feared as the Left Hand of the Divine. Leliana’s icy blue eyes were as sharp as  daggers and seemed to pierce through the thick thoughts of Lavaliel. Petrified, she could not think of an excuse to explain her actions.

“I-- I didn’t mean--”

“To follow me?” asked Leliana with a teasing smile. “You were quite good at it though. But I have eyes everywhere.”

Leliana gave a quick tilt of her head to the side, and Lavaliel understood. There were people everywhere. Old men, nervous clerics, people looking at them, some more blatantly than others. Lavaliel instantly felt stupid for her sneaky behaviour; of course, she could not follow the Left Hand of the Divine herself without being unnoticed; and it was not due to her lack of training those past twenty years. The cold eyes of Leliana’s men laying upon her send another cold chill down her spine.

 

Lavaliel’s blushing intensified as she apologized, “I’m sorry, I just wanted-- I’ve heard you’re looking for recruits, Sister Leliana.” Lavaliel was expecting a flat refusal, maybe a scolding from the Left Hand of the Divine, but she never expected her to _smile_.

“I was hoping you’d say so.”

Lavaliel raised her head and her eyes widened in surprise: “Excuse me, my Lady?”

A mischievous grin freeze Lavaliel to her feet. “An elf, secretly looking for the Herald andprotecting her? It was enough to pique my curiosity.” Leliana closed the distance between them and leaned forward. “I know who you are,” she breathed. “You were more famous than you seem to believe after all. _Lily Blue._ ”

 

Lavaliel gritted her teeth at the name Leliana whispered to her ear. It had been a long while since she was called by that monicker. _How could she know about that?_ Leliana took a step back to observe Lavaliel’s expression. Time had passed since she was able to keep her mind unreadable and she knew she was only toying with her. Lavaliel sighed, and surrendered. She was outperformed, and she only wished to serve the Inquisition. She had no choice but being honest.

 

“It was a long time ago. I’m no longer part of it.” Lavaliel saw a hint of disappointment in Leliana’s crystalline eyes, and her smile disappeared. “I want to serve and protect Uriell, that’s all.”

“Uriell, hmm?"

Leliana arched an eyebrow and Lavaliel immediately cursed herself for her lack of attention. She was not supposed to speak so candidly in public, even in Ostwick. Uriell would likely appreciate it though.

“And who are you to call the Herald by her first name?” Leliana frowned.

“Just a simple servant, my Lady,” replied Lavaliel with a quick bow of her head. She averted her gaze, trying to hide her embarrassment.  

 

Leliana stayed silent, judging her from head to toe. Her unreadable mask was back in place, she was being serious.

 

“Then… how should I call you?” she asked.

“Lavaliel, my Lady.”

“Call me Sister Leliana. Sullivan?”

 

A man passing nearby stopped as Leliana called him out. He was tall and thin. His black hair and moustache made him look older than he surely was, but he was calm and at ease, even in the presence of the redhead.

 

“Yes, Sister Leliana?”

“I want you to train Lavaliel. Every morning, starting from tomorrow. Make sure she’s ready for the next mission. You’ll go with her.” The young man seemed surprised as he looked at Lavaliel. He only nodded, then went back to his business. Leliana turned to face Lavaliel, “I need to test your skills. Then I’ll tell you if you’re hired of not.”

“Oh,” gaped Lavaliel, “Thank you, Sister Leliana! I won’t disappoint you, I promise--”

 

Leliana suddenly grabbed Lavaliel’s arm and gave her a cold threatening look. Her heart stopped as she felt the pressure around her wrist, and the sharp eyes of the redhead cut through her mind, leaving her disarmed. “Just to be clear, everything you’ll now hear and see is strictly confidential. You shall not ever talk about it to the Herald without my approval. Is that clear?”

The stinging pain in her wrist brought tears to her eyes. Lavaliel quickly nodded, trying to escape her grip. “Understood. Not a word.”

“Then we have a deal. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Lavaliel massaged her arm once Leliana let her go and left her on the spot, heading to the Chantry. Lavaliel almost regretted her decision. _She had tried so hard to run away from her mercenary past in the last twenty years, and now, she would be willingly joining a group of what looked like spies. Under this woman’s commands._

 

 _Definitely_ , some things never change.

 

Anxious and well aware of the curious eyes laying on her, Lavaliel composed herself. For someone who wanted to be as discreet as possible, she failed her mission spectacularly. People who attend the scene started to whisper to one another, and Lavaliel grew more and more uncomfortable. She slowly turned around and made her way back to the training yard, doing her best to keep her face unreadable and not run away.

She realized after a few steps that her hands shook. She intertwined her fingers together, pressing her thumbs inside her palms in an attempt to relax. As she walked, she took deep breathes of fresh air and shut her eyes, slowing down her heart rate. _It was a mistake._ Thinking about the past would never help her. She now had to rely on her hopes, her skills, and the noble goal Uriell was willing to achieve. No more useless killing. It was different this time, and Lavaliel had changed, too.

 

She soon arrived to her tent. The deafening sounds of the clashing swords and shields almost completely blocked out her own thoughts. _What to do now?_ She was not hungry anymore; her guts knotted tightly with apprehension, the bitterness of her memory, and a hint of fear as to her worthiness. She couldn’t bear the inquisitive looks of Haven’s people again. _Should she stay in her tent and try to calm down? No, she was unable to rest now._

She turned her head to the training soldiers behind her. The commander scolded two inattentive recruits for the lack of motivation and energy. _Of course, training !_ If Leliana desired to test her on the morrow, she should  prepare herself. In a heartbeat, Lavaliel grabbed her bow and quiver from her tent and fled the village in direction of the forest.

The little plain in the wood had become her favourite place to practise; away from the villagers’ eyes she could train and relax at the same time. As always, the place was deserted when she arrived. She let out a sigh of relief and took her stance in front of her favorite tree. The marking of a target she had drawn was still visible. Lavaliel strung her bow, took an arrow from her quiver and began her long day of training.

She only stopped once all her muscles ached with soreness and the tips of her fingers were red from the cold and friction. Judging by the dim light piercing through the trees, it should be one or two hours before sunset. Lavaliel unstrung her bow and placed it on her quiver, then she collected the last arrows she fired at  her target. She absentmindedly put them back in her quiver and made her way back to her tent. Her appetite had returned and expected supper with impatience. At least, the  day of physical effort helped clear her mind. She should sleep well that night.

 

When she arrived as the camp, soldiers were already tidying the yard and taking off their armor. Lavaliel quickly left her weapons inside her tent, and decided to go for a walk as it was not time for supper yet. She left in direction of the lake, following the palisades to the first gates and the watchtowers a bit further away from the village.

 

“Who are you and why are you here?”

Lavaliel raised her head toward the gates. She could see from afar the guards calling out to someone from the other side. Curious and wary, Lavaliel made her way to the gates, her hand laying over the hilt of the dagger at her belt.

“I thought the Inquisition needed as many allies as possible?”

Lavaliel’s heart jumped in her chest. _That voice, could it be … ?_

“Allies, not suspicious folk like you!” retorted the guard on angry tone. Lavaliel ran to the gates, and finally got a glimpse on the stranger. Blond hair tied at the top of his head, green eyes, and a stylized goatee. An insolent glare and a daring grin. Her heart beat faster as a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders.

“Let him in,” said Lavaliel. Her eyes were locked on the stranger as the guards turned around to face her. The blond man dropped his gaze on her and a blooming smile grew on his lips.

“You know him, ma’am?” asked one of them, incredulous.

 

Lavaliel did not even hear the question as she ran toward the stranger, arms open and tears running down her cheeks. The young man did the same, and they both crashed together in a tight and warm embrace. Lavaliel buried her face against his torso, hiding her tears as he held her close.

 

 “I’m back, Mamae,” he said gently.

 “Finally, Kariell.”

 


	7. The threat remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uriell comes back from the Hinterlands and finds out her brother has returned. Cullen doesn't look upon this reunion with the same enthusiasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my beta-reader GuileandGall for her patience and really great work. Thank you all for reading this!

Uriell raised her shield just in time. The hissing sound of the firebolt turned into a loud thud when it crashed against the metal, and the impact spread through her whole body. Her left arm clenched on the shield’s handle, tetanized to counter the tremblings due to the jolt. Her feet sank deeper into the ground and she managed to keep her balance. Uriell gritted her teeth in concentration, though she did not fear the physical pain. She could feel the flames licking the metal of her shield, the extreme heat piercing through her layers and roasting her arms in her vambraces. The smell of fire she once used to love now only brought back painful memories. Uriell could hear nothing but the screams of agony of unarmed victims, the crackling of fire burning houses and bodies to ashes, and the battle cries of mad Templars and rebel mages. 

 

The blond warrior gave a quick look over her shoulder. The young boy she succeeded to protect laid on the ground on his elbows, extremely pale and eyes round in shock. 

 

“Run! Follow this path to the tunnel, you’ll be fine there!”

 

The lad did not need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and fled in the direction Uriell directed. She could focus again on the battlefield. Alert, she lowered her shield just enough to see above it. Cassandra was near, fighting a rogue Templar with all her strength. Varric stood a few steps behind Uriell, shooting arrows into any foe trying to draw near. She noticed his shortness of breath. They did not have other healing potions and she feared he might fall soon of exhaustion. Solas kept casting protection glyphs over the party and seemed to be running out of energy, too.

 

Uriell saw from afar a group of Templars charging in their direction. To her right, she could hear the screams and chants of mages fighting, calling out with arcane power and, maybe, invoking demons. Uriell bit her lip in frustration. This path was the shortest way to Master Dennet’s stable, her chosen destination; but the never-ending battles between mages and Templars on this route made it impractical.

 

“Retreat!” Uriell shouted in direction of Cassandra, who dealt a final blow to her opponent, leaving him dead to the ground. “There are too many of them, we can’t go through!”

 

Uriell  took a few quick steps backwards before turning around and running in the direction of the crossroads’ camps where the Inquisition troops waited. Varric stumbled in pain as he tried to follow her. The hiss of another fireball alerted Uriell and she bent over the dwarf in reflex, dodging the impact. They were shortly joined by Cassandra and Solas, both on the brink of exhaustion. The Seeker gathered the strength she had left and stood between Uriell and the upcoming mages and Templars, shield up, ready to cover their retreat.

 

“Varric, can you walk?” Uriell asked in a rushed whisper. Adrenaline made her forget about her own sore muscles and the light burns on her cheek, but the dwarf shivered in pain as Uriell laid her hand on his back. A trickle of blood ran down his bruised chin from the corner of his mouth. Fear gnawed Uriell’s insides, a mix of acute concern for her friend and a rush of stress, urging her to flee before the next attack. 

 

“Cassandra, cover me!” 

 

Uriell hung her shield in her back awkwardly, and sheathed her sword. She sensed the Seeker’s tension behind her while Solas kneeled near beside Varric, leaning on his staff with a worried look on his face. Uriell cupped the frame of the dwarf in her arms, wedging Varric’s head up in the crook of her neck, and sliding her forearm underneath his legs. She quickly made sure she could carry him. Despite the heavy weight of his muscular body, Uriell’s years of training and her raging strength due to the thrill of battle allowed her to lift her friend close to her chest. Her muscles strained in protestation but Uriell paid it no mind. Without a word, the small party fled the battle for safety.

 

***

 

Uriell walked beside Diavolo, her hand entwined in the straps of his reins. It had been decided they would come back to Haven to report before going further in the exploration of the Hinterlands. Meanwhile, the Inquisition scouts led by a dwarven recruit, Lace Harding, would try to find  a way to bring an end to the skirmishes blocking the route to Master Dennet’s house, a famed Ferelden horsemaster. The Inquisition needed his skills and horses; the spymaster and the commander were clear on the matter in their last letter. Nonetheless, finding the horsemaster was the last of Uriell’s concerns. Her guilt slowly grew each time she remembered the faces of the wounded and the starving refugees, terrified when she realized all their hopes relied on her. 

 

Their journey back to Haven unfolded safely, allowing the party plenty of time to rest and heal from their last battle. Uriell said little during their travels, focused on the reports expected from her, and under the shade of her gloomy mood. She had hurt and killed many people that week. She wished she would never have to do so again, but she knew it could not be the case. Uriell wished she did not know how easy it was for a sword to slit a throat open, how stinky blood got when you had to scrub it off your face; she also wished she could forget the horrific sight of mutilated corpses littering the field at the end of a battle. 

 

“You did the right thing,” Cassandra told her one night when Uriell found herself unable to find sleep. “You defended the innocent. You defended us. You defended yourself.”

 

“I just wish there were other ways to do so,” Uriell had whispered.

 

“That’s what we are fighting for. It’s a war, Herald. There will be sacrifices.”

 

Uriell sighed with relief when she noticed Haven’s barricades in the distance. The thought of Lavaliel’s comforting embrace was the only thing that could lift her spirits after such an experience. While in Cassandra she found  a listening ear and the best of motivational speeches, all she needed right then was the warmth and laughter of a friend.

 

Their party’s arrival in Haven did not go unnoticed. A crowd gathered around them as they passed through the gates and Uriell had the itchy feeling there were more people in the village than when she left. She was concerned,  _ how could such a small village would welcome so many refugees, pilgrims, and allies as she had met during her journey? _ She mentally took note to ask Leliana on the matter during their upcoming meeting.

 

“Please,  _ please _ , make room for the Herald. She needs to rest. Go back to your business.” Uriell barely noticed Cassandra trying to disperse the curious mass surrounding them while she gave the reins of Diavolo to a young squire. Although she wished Cassandra did not call her ‘Herald’ every single time, Uriell was grateful for this kind gesture. Clearly, dealing with a crowd of interested eyes and whispering mouths was not her priority. 

 

Once the villagers left, only to spy on her at a more reasonable distance, Uriell waved at her companions and headed toward her assigned quarters alone. She had time before the meeting with the Inquisition members. She still hesitated on how to spend those moments between a nap and a book on war tactics, but the sight of two figures in front of her small wooden shack drew her away from such thoughts. She first recognized Lavaliel, who waved at her when their eyes met. The other silhouette was tall and muscular, masculine, with long blond hair.

 

“Kariell--?”

 

He turned to face her, a broad and warm smile enlightening his features. Her half-brother, supposed to be still in Ostwick, stood in front of her. Dumbfounded, Uriell could not move. Her last gloomy thoughts and the weight in her belly disappeared at once.  _ How is it possible? _ It had been such a long time since she had last seen him, she did not realize how precious he was to her fragile heart. Uriell did not notice she was running to his side, she did not think of the shock her whole armor would make once she fell upon his neck. Tears of relief and happiness appeared at the corner of her eyes while Kariell greeted her with a loud laugh and vigorous pats on her back.

 

“Hey there, Herald of Andraste, don’t forget your manners!”

 

“You, prick!” Uriell took a step away from him and held him tightly by the shoulders. Her euphoria soon mingled with a hint of reproach. “Couldn’t you send one single letter? Couldn’t you tell us you were coming?” Even though Uriell deeply wanted to pout at him for making her worry, she could not stop smiling and laughing. 

 

“What matters is that I’m here, right?” he blinked.

 

“Maker take you!” swore Uriell under the disapproving eye of Lavaliel. The brat would never stop teasing her after all.  _ He would pay for this _ , she thought. For now, she had too many questions to ask. “But, when, how--?”

 

“He arrived few days ago,” answered Lavaliel. The delicate elf brushed Uriell’s back with her gentle hand, the way she used to do when Uriell needed to calm down. “Everything’s fine.”

 

“We found jobs,” added Kariell as he released Uriell’s grip on his arms and messed playfully with her tightly done hair. “I’ve helped building with more shelters and cabins, and Mother’s now part of the recruits. That’s way more fun than in Ostwick!” 

 

“The ... recruits?” Uriell turned her head in disbelief to Lavaliel, who answered with a simple smile. Lavaliel had never told Uriell she would be able to fight, although she had told Uriell about her archery skills. The fragile and clumsy servant in Ostwick gave Uriell the feeling of knowing much more than she led the others to believe.

 

“But now,” resumed Kariell as he put his large hand on Uriell’s shoulder, “let’s go to the tavern, we’ve got toasts to make.” The thrill of catching up time on their separation lifted Uriell’s spirits even more; but she suddenly realized all the work the she had left to do for the day. As much as she wished to celebrate, she now had more important duties than she used to in the Free Marches. She wiped her happy tears with the palm of her hand and gave him an awkward smile. 

 

“Not now Kal’,” she said softly. “I have a meeti-- reports to give. Later.”

 

“You’d better be quick then.” Kariell winked at her. Maker, she has missed his cocky smiles.

 

***

 

Cullen rubbed the knot in his neck while he watched the Herald leave the war room side by side with Cassandra. The two of them seemed to have bonded during their last expedition as they appeared to be more comfortable in each other’s presence. Cullen knew it well, there were no stronger bonds than war companions. 

 

That day’s war room meeting was long, which did not helped Cullen’s migraine. Lady Uriell Trevelyan and Cassandra first reported their actions taken in the Hinterlands and the consequences of meeting Mother Giselle. The news was worse than expected. Refugees were starving and preys of the cold, the route to Redcliffe was closed, bandits abounded its surroundings, and last but not least, the war between mages and Templars was raging with great fervor in the valley. No news from Master Dennet was heard, and the Inquisition had to  rely on the few sparse horses left after the Temple explosion. They were losing time. 

 

Cullen was the last to leave the war room. He locked the door behind him and crossed the Chantry’s nave. Mother Giselle bowed shallowly at him as he passed. The cleric arrived to join the Inquisition two days before Uriell returned. Cullen disliked the way she acted around him, as if he still was a Templar, but, at least, she did not bother him much. She insisted for a long time on the need for the Herald to meet with the Grand Priestesses of Val Royeaux in Orlais. Cullen understood the diplomatic value of such a meeting, however he frowned upon it. The Chantry had been more than bitter about the founding of the Inquisition and the Chancellor Roderick kept taunting him and accusing the organization of every ill plaguing Thedas since the Conclave. Tensions between mages and Templars thickened, even in Haven, and the Chancellor seemed prone to add fuel to the fire while nurturing discord. 

 

_ Speaking of the man… _ Cullen finally stepped out of the Chantry, welcoming the cold air on his face.  Usually, the southern breeze would ease up his headaches, but Roderick waited to ruin this singular pleasure. The cleric fell upon him like an eagle on his prey, spitting sly accusations against their ‘fake Herald’ and the ‘Inquisition thugs’, but Cullen paid him no attention. It was time to check on his troops; and the commander made his way through the village with the chancellor  following him and calling out blasphemy. 

 

The commander stopped in his tracks at the sight of the herald when she appeared near the tavern. She was accompanied by a dark-haired city elf, Varric Thetras, and the tall blond man who had joined the Inquisition a few days ago. His attention laid on the arm of Lady Trevelyan, tightly closed around the tall man’s waist. The stranger had put his own around the her shoulders and both of them were laughing, presumably at some of Varric’s infamous jokes. It was the first time Cullen saw Uriell smile that genuinely. While he should be glad to see their herald  in good health and happiness, a hint of disappointment and disapproval instantly made him frown.

 

The female elf opened the door of the tavern and the merry group entered one after another, laughing out loud. Chancellor Roderick did not miss the scene neither.

 

“Look at that, your mighty ‘Herald’, spending her time in a tavern with a man, like a girl of ill repute! Why am I not surprised?”

 

“Just shut up,” hissed Cullen between his teeth. The remark affected him more deeply than he thought it would. After all, they did not know anything about this Lady Trevelyan. Was she even from the Trevelyan family? She had seemed to him to be well educated, diplomatic and polite; but after seeing her with this man, he was not sure anymore. _Who was he anyway?_ _She’s our only hope_ , he reminded himself, _she’s the one who got out of the Fade, it doesn’t matter the way she lives_. Yet, why did this bother him? Cullen shrugged and resumed his walk to the training camp.

 

The commander soon joined his troops and after moments of silence watching over their training, Chancellor Roderick grew tired of not getting answers, and left him alone. The crashing noise of blades sparrings and shields parrying did not stop Cullen’s flood of thoughts. He did not remember being this judgmental about anyone enjoying the company of someone’s other sex before; though he had scolded his own troops when he was still in Kirkwall for sneaking away to the Blooming Rose. But that was completely different. Cullen clicked his tongue in displeasure.  _ No, it was wrong. _ She was the Herald of Andraste, people expected her to be a modern holy figure to follow in those dark times. He should tell her to take heed of her status and avoid being seen in such company.  _ But would he dare? No, he should tell Josephine instead, she would find the right words. But, what would the Ambassador think of him?  _

 

“Commander? Commander?!”

 

Cullen opened his eyes and finally noticed the presence of a young soldier by his side. “Commander, can we call for the end of training, Ser?”

 

Cullen looked around and saw his recruits exhausted, some of them sitting on the ground and leaning on their shields. The sun setting in the distance, and the bell calling for supper already ringing. Cullen’s cheeks burnt when he realized he had stood there, lost in his thoughts, for what must have been hours.

 

“Maker! Er-- yes, you can all go now.”

 

He could hear a sigh of relief spread amongst the soldiers, who immediately started to pack their training equipment. Cullen turned his back to his men, trying to hide his embarrassment.  _ The inventory, he should have a look at the inventory. _ A strange knot in his stomach was still bothering him, he did not feel hungry and Cullen decided to skip the meal. Uriell might be eating with Cassandra tonight as she usually did, and to his own surprise, he did not want to see her again. He was not eager to meet her gaze after all the bad habits he  imagined her to possess. Cullen entered the recently-built cabin, where they stored the training weapons and basic medical herbs and potions. He took the inventory paper on a shelf near the entrance and began counting the equipment, from the shortest to the longest sword, each single dagger, bow, and arrow they had at their disposal for training purposes.

 

Cullen only stopped when he was satisfied that everything was in order and nothing was missing. Plus, the laborious task must have taken him at least another long, and it had kept his mind away from his last ditherings. The sky was fully dark, and he guessed dinner should likely be concluded. So he made his way toward his chambers in the Chantry with a mind to try and sleep despite the persistent headache he had suffered all day.

 

After locking up the cabin, Cullen turned back toward the town and noticed a lonely figure looking at the lake. Cullen squinted and recognized the tight bun of golden hair and certain details of the silhouette. Uriell stood there, alone and in silence. Cullen felt his cheeks grew red and his heart jump in his chest, as if taken by surprise.  _ What could she be doing there alone? _ He would have never expected such an important person of her rank to be left alone, especially given the recent tumultuous events. After a few seconds of indecisiveness, he chose to go and check on her. If anyone tried to attack the herald...  _ Seriously, what was she thinking? Should he reprimand her for her lack of wariness? _ He immediately made note to instruct a few of his men to keep an eye on the herald whenever she was at the camp.

 

The sound of snow crunching under his boots alerted the young woman to his presence and she turned to face him, apparently as surprised to see him as he was to have noticed her out there.

 

“Oh, Commander. I did not know you were here.” She saluted him with a bow of her head. 

 

“Am I bothering you?” Cullen asked as he joined her. She gently shook her head from side to side then gave him a shy smile.  _ Did he startle her? _ Unable to read her face, Cullen’s curiosity rose.

 

“Not at all. I was just... thinking about home.”

 

She clasped her hands behind her back and looked up at the sky. Darkness surrounded them and the stars brightly shone up above their heads. The training camp was deserted, most of the soldiers still at the tavern or conversing around the great fire of the village. The lakeside exuded an  exceptional calm; it was relaxing. Cullen quickly glanced at the herald. She seemed in perfect health despite the skirmishes she reported; maybe she was stronger than she looked. Strands of blond hair escaped her bun and fell on her shoulder, a delicate mark of the femininity kept well hidden beneath her heavy armor. Her big eyes glowed with the light of the moon as she stared at the stars. Cullen noticed how serene she seemed. Nothing like the exuberant demonstration of affection he had witnessed earlier.

 

“Commander?”

 

Uriell gazed at him, catching him off guard while he stared at her.

 

“Oh, er-- Homesick yet, Herald?” he managed to stammer.  _ Maker, he did not mean to be rude! _ Cullen looked away while scratching his neck, hoping she did not notice the blush spreading across his face.

 

“Ah, on the contrary,” she admitted. “I prefer it here. Just wondering about my family.” The young lady lowered her gaze. 

 

“Nevermind,” she breathed. She shrugged and stared at her feet, hiding her face in the shadows. After a few seconds of silence, she slowly turned to face him, and Cullen embraced the sight of the delicate features of her face. Her cheeks were red, Cullen smelled a hint of wine mixed with her own scent.  _ Had she been drinking tonight? _

 

“Commander, you were a templar, right?” Cullen look at the young lady in surprise. _ Had he not to told her about his military experiences? _ He had grown quite tired of all the questions about his station at Kirkwall, more eager to move on and redeem from his past rather than speak of the Knight-Commander Meredith’s lethal errors. He sighed and nodded silently. 

 

“You missed dinner tonight, and I’ve barely seen you talking to anyone except Leliana and Josephine since I arrived”, she went on. Her brows knitted in concern as she leant forward to look up at him. “Did you… loose family or  _ friends _ at the Conclave?”

 

“I-- Maker…” Cullen’s eyes widened with surprise.  _ Why would she ask such a thing? Close persons? Did she mean friends?  _ Many templars and mages died at the explosion, but as far as he remembered, he did not recall knowing anyone who had attended. “No, I-- I was not accompanied.”

 

She let out a sigh of relief and gazed away in the direction of the village. “I’m glad. Most people keep thinking I’m the one who caused the blast and accuse me of taking away their families. It’s not easy.” Her concerned look betrayed the weight of her title’s burden.  

 

“I don’t think that way of you, Herald,” he blurted. That was true. He may have thought of her to be quite frivolous earlier, but he would have never accused her of being a mass murderer. Even if the idea might have crossed his mind, her pained expression was enough for him to believe her not guilty. She stared up at him again, and the clouds in her mind seemed to slowly disappear.

 

“Commander, did YOU take vows when you were a templar?”

 

“V-vows?” Cullen stuttered. His heart skipped a beat under her intense gaze. He unconsciously brought his hand to his neck.  _ What kind of question was that?  _

 

“Yeah, like not having a family on your own, or something.”  _ She definitely meant it. _ “In Ostwick, Templars don’t have to take chastity vows, but it happens. What about you?” 

 

Cullen’s heartbeat raced as questions jostled inside his head.  _ Was she toying with him? _ Her expression was so serious, it was not a game.  _ Was she really asking that out of curiosity?  _ “No, I-- Maker, no. I did not take such vows.” He frowned.  _ What could she mean with all that? _

 

“Oh, okay.” Uriell looked away once again, before she resumed,“Commander, I think there’s one of the servants who grew quite fond of you. She told a friend of mine to give you a letter on her behalf …”

 

Cullen froze on the spot. He was confused. Not that he was not used to such attention, but he did not expect the herald to gossip or play matchmaker.  _ Why would she talk about it that easily? _ Plus, he did not care about such trivialities.  

 

“I don’t want it,” he retorted with a hint of disappointment. 

 

“You don’t?” she asked. Her polite smile was back . “That’s what I thought, too. We’re at war after all.”

 

The Commander looked at her incredulously. She had kept such an austere look about such light matters, he did not know what to say. Sensing his confusion, she smiled again and explained. “I’ve been raised amongst warriors, Commander, and most of them were light-heads. They mostly thought of chasing women. They did not focus on their training, nor their duties. I’m glad to know we have a reliable and serious man in command of our troops. Sorry for testing you.”

 

Cullen remained dumbfounded, lost in the pool of her eyes, sparkling and sharp. She was evaluating him. While Cullen had imagined her as an easy, trivial girl, but in the end, she seemed to keep serious matters at heart.

 

“Good night, Commander.”, Addressing him one last smile, Uriell turned away. “I’m leaving for Val Royeaux on the morrow. I should rest.”

  
Cullen looked at her wave and go, unable to say anything. When she disappeared behind the village doors, he finally resigned himself to go  to his own quarters.


End file.
